
Qass J?i^Mf 
Book Jl3 




' 



million : 



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THE 



MOST EMINENT 



Orators and Statesmen 



ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES; 



CONTAINING SKETCHES OF THEIR LIVES, SPECIMENS OF THEIR ELOQUENCE 
AND AN ESTIMATE OF THEIR GENIUS. 



BY 

DAVID A. HARSHA. 



" To the famous Orators repair." — Milton. 



PHILADELPHIA! 

PORTER & COATES 



*1 i 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 

DAVID A. HARSHA, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United Stales for the Northern 

District of New York. 



- 3Zfz/ 



PREFACE. 



In offering the following work to the public, the author 
would advert to a few of it& distinguishing features. 

It consists of historical and critical sketches of some of 
those who have been most eminent both as orators and as 
statesmen ; including a plain and brief account of the leading 
events in the public life of each. 

To render the volume useful for reference, particular 
attention has been given to the insertion of dates. The 
time when the most celebrated speeches were made, is 
mentioned. This is also true with reference to memorable 
historical incidents. In furnishing extracts from speeches, 
as well as in noticing biographical events, strict chronological 
order has been observed. Such a plan is preferable, as it 
gives the reader a distinct view of the subject. 

Copious extracts are made from the best orations and 
speeches. In this department the w T ork is very compre- 
hensive. Embracing the most beautiful specimens of the 
style of each orator, it thus contains some of the finest pas- 



i* PREFACE. 

sages in English and American literature. Where can we 
find, for instance, finer models for study and admiration 
than in ihe great speeches of Chatham and Burke; of 
Grattan and Erskine ; of Pitt and Fox ; of Henry and 
Ames ; of Calhoun and Clay ; of Webster and Everett? 

It is to be hoped that the graceful passages in which 
this volume abounds, may create in the mind of the reader 
a deeper interest for the study of eloquence. The author 
fears that this subject has not received the attention which 
its importance demands. It is certainly true that the best 
speeches of our greatest orators are not generally read. 
The N principal cause of this neglect is, that most of those 
highly wrought sentences, which most delight every reader 
of fine taste, "are often combined with a quantity of matter 
of temporary interest only — with a mass, in fact, of political, 
financial, and statistical detail, which the public or parlia- 
mentary business of the monrjnt required. Unless the 
reader has some particular object in view, his mind hesitates 
to encounter this formidable obstacle to its gratification. 
The precious gem lies in a heap, it is true, but the labor 
and perseverance of the diamond seeker can alone arrive 
at their possession." Now one design of the author has 
been to collect those gems of literature, which are spe- 
cimens of all that is beautiful and sublime in oratory. 
Without the labor of searching through voluminous collec- 
tions of speeches, the admirer of eloquence can here turn, 
at once, to those exquisite passages with which he will love 



PREFACE. v 

to store his mind.* But still, the man of letters will do 
well to read w th care the most elaborate speeches of the 
famous orators. To those who wish to peruse the best 
speeches of eminent British statesmen, we can unreservedly 
commend the excellent collection of Professor Chauncey A. 
Goodrich. 

Another important feature of this volume is a delineation 
of the oratorical character — an analysis of that eloquence 
whose bewitching strains have enchanted listening senates 
and popular assemblies. Comments are made on the lead- 
ing peculiarities of each orator. His forte is generally 
pointed out, the great secret of his power unfolded, and the 
charms of his manner described. To aid in the execution of 
tills difficult task, opinions of judicious critics and cotempo- 
rary writers have often been cited. Many beautiful sketches 
of character, drawn by master-hands, are thus embodied in 
the work. For several of these spirited descriptions, the 
author is indebted to Mackintosh, Wraxall, Brougham, 
Wirt, Goodrich, Jenkins, March, and Cleaveland. 

Many valuable hints on the art of public speaking are 
thrown out. These, the student of oratory will do well to 
regard. 

A number of anecdotes are related, making the book 
amusing as well as instructive. 

* Comprehensive Speaker by Henry T. Coates. 



\ 



vi PREFACE 

In the notes which are subjoined, will be found notices of 
other political orators, whose names are not included in the 
table of contents ; such as Mansfield, Mirabeau, Wilber- 
force, Hamilton, Hayne, Wirt, Choate, and Kossuth. 

It was the original design of the author to embrace in 
the present collection the most celebrated pulpit orators of 
France, Great Britain, and America, including some living 
divines ; but it has been thought best to reserve them for a 
separate volume of the same size as the present. 

In conclusion, the author would state that this work is 
intended to be a text book for students in our academies 
and colleges ; one which shall lie on the table of every one 
engaged in the study of oratory, and be an every-day 
book of reference for the literary man, the clergyman, the 
lawyer, and the politician. 

David A. Harsha. 

South Argyle, N. Y 



CONTENTS 



««»«•» 



CHAPTER I. Pag* 

Demosthenes 1 

CHAPTER II. 
Cicero, 35 

CHAPTER III. 
Lord Chatham, 75 

CHAPTER IV. 
Edmund Burke, 122 

CHAPTER V. 
Henry Grattan, 168 

CHAPTER VI. 
Charles James Fox, 185 

CHAPTER VII. 
Lord Erskine, i 211 

CHAPTER VIII. 
John Philpot Curran, 230 

CHAPTER IX. 
Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 240 

CHAPTER X. 
William Pitt, 256 



\ 



viii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER Xi. p ag e 

George Canning 281 

CHAPTER XII. 
Lord Brougham, 297 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Patrick Henry, 308 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Fisher Ames, 338 

CHAPTER XV. 
Henry Clay, 353 

CHAPTER XVI. 
John C. Calhoun, 395 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Daniel Webster, 429 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
Edward Everett, 491 



OMTORS AND STATESMEN. 



CHAPTER I. 



DEMOSTHENES. 

u To the famous orators repair, 
Those ancients, whose resistless eloquence 
Wielded at will that fierce democracy, 
Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece 
To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne/' — Milton. 

It is pleasant and interesting to contemplate the orators, 
whose eloquence has instructed, delighted, swayed and 
astonished thousands. To sketch the Jives of a few of 
them; to draw their character; to exhibit some specimens 
of their eloquence will be the object of this volume. The 
history of those " famous orators " whom we design to 
notice, is full of incidents of extraordinary interest, and 
over their names is shed a luster which will never grow 
dim. 

Before we contemplate the prince of orators, it will be 
interesting to advert to the history of ancient Grecian 
eloquence We shall do this very briefly. 

It was not until the later ages of the republic that ora- 

uade its appearance, and assumed its true character. 

Greece had adopted the popular forms of govern- 

; after Solon had framed a new constitution; after 

icomparable poems of Homer had been collected and 



2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

studied, oratory began to be cultivated, as an art, until it 
was brought to perfection by Demosthenes. Its duration, 
however, was but short. The golden age of Grecian elo- 
quence may be said to extend from the era of Solon (about 
600 b. *,), to that of Alexander (b. c. 336). Within this 
space are to be found the most renowned orators. Tnis 
has been admirably called the brightest period in the 
annals of Greece — a glorious day, at the close of which her 
sun went down in clouds and never rose again in its native 
splendor. 

The history of Grecian oratory presents itself under 
three different aspects; the first, " in which the statesman 
was subordinate to the general; the next, in which the 
general was subordinate to the statesman; and the third, 
in which the statesman acted independently of the general." 
Three eras will designate the peculiar character of Grecian 
eloquence. The first has been called that of Themistocles; 
the second, that of Pericles; and the third that of Demos 
thenes. 

Themistocles, who flourished about 480 years b. c, was 
an able general, an accomplished statesman, and a powerful 
orator. In him predominated the bravery of the hero 
His ruling passion was a love of military glory. After the 
battle of Marathon, when all Greece was resounding 
with the fame of the victorious Miltiades, it is said that 
Themistocles complained to his friends, " The trophies of 
Miltiades will not suffer me to sleep." Soon afterwards 
we find him arousing his countrymen by his eloquence, 
to resist the Persian powers, and, at the memorable battles 
of Salamis and Plataaa, leading the Greeks on to victory 
He hurled defiance at the Persian throne, and sustained the 
pillars of government amid the political convulsions o f 
the age. Like Caesar, he spoke with the same force wil 
which he fought. Bold, powerful, and magnificent, h 
eloquence was the most distinguished of the times in 



DEMOSTHENES. 3 

which he lived; and, as an orator and statesman, he ac- 
quired over the Athenians unlimited sway. 

The second period in the history of Grecian eloquence 
opens with a more magnificent prospect " On hearing the 
age of Pericles mentioned, a crowd of glorious associations 
is called up; he who becomes more profoundly acquainted 
with it, soon finds that no pure ideal of perfection then 
existed. To behold the mere citizen of a republic, raising 
his nation, and by means of his nation all mankind, to a 
higher position, is a spectacle which history has never but 
once been able, under similar circumstances, to repeat, in 
Lorenzo the Magnificent. Enviable men, around whose 
brows the unfading laurel twines its verdure! If fame in 
succeeding generations, if the grateful remembrance of 
posterity is no vain felicity, who would not willingly 
exchange his claims for yours?"* Forty years Pericles 
governed Athens with great ability. His talents were of 
the highest order, and his eloquence was of that vehement 
kind which the human passions can not resist, and which 
overcomes all opposition. So powerful was the voice of 
Pericles that the surname of Olympias was given him, for 
it was said that, like Jupiter, he thundered when he spoke- 
Over those who had fallen in the first campaign of the 
Peloponnesian war, Pericles delivered a funeral eulogium, 
which Thucydides has embodied in his history of this war. 
Though the speech in Thucydides is doubtless the composi- 
tion of the historian, yet from it we may judge of the 
character of political eloquence during that long and ex- 
citing conflict. 

" This speech, the most remarkable of all the composi- 
tions of antiquity — the full transfv sion of which into a 
modern language is an impossibility -exhibits a more com- 
plete view of the intellectual power and moral character 

* Heeren's Researches on Ancient Greece. 



4 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of Pericles, than all that the historian and biographers 
have said of him. The form in which the great orator 
and statesman has embodied his lofty conceptions, is beauty 
chastened and elevated by a noble severity. Athens and 
the Athenians are the objects which his ambition seeks to 
immortalize, and the whole world is the theater and the 
witness of her glorious exploits." Pericles died about 429 
years, b. c, two years after the commencement of the Pelo- 
ponnesian war. The style of eloquence which prevailed 
in the time of Pericles was fearless, vehement, dignified and 
sententious. Of the orators of that day, Cicero says, 
" Grandes erant verbis, crebri sententiis, compressione re- 
rum breves, et, ob earn ipsam causam, interdum subobscuri." 

We come now to notice the thirc^ and most glorious 
period in the history of oratory; a period that will ever 
be remembered with admiration. Now we see the great 
Athenian master ascend the bema. Now we hear the 
thunders of that powerful eloquence which shook Athens, 
and "'fulmined over Greece to Macedon and Artaxerxes' 
throne." The age of Demosthenes was one in which oratory 
made its grandest display; an age which produced many 
eminent public speakers, of whose brilliant genius and 
talents there still remain splendid monuments. Demos- 
thenes, Isocrates, Lysias, Isaeus, iEschihes, and Hyperides, 
are reckoned among the ten famous Athenian orators who 
flourished during this, the brightest period of Grecian 
eloquence. 

In the time of Demosthenes, eloquence was studied in a 
regular and systematic form. Schools of oratory were 
instituted, and became the resort of those who wished to 
distinguish themselves in public speaking. Isocrates was 
one of the most distinguished teachers of eloquence in 
those days. To him Cicero ascribes the honor of having 
formed its general character. We may here remark 
in general, that almost every branch of literature in 



DEMOSTHENES. 5 

Greece, was now putting forth its most beautiful and im- 
perishable blossoms. Athens had become the renowned 
seat of the arts and sciences — the birth-place of the most 
distinguished poets, philosophers, historians and artists. 
Such, in a word, was ancient Greece when eloquence was 
to break forth in its brightest glory. The author* of a 
beautiful sketch of Ancient and Modern Eloquence ob- 
serves: 

" In tracing the history of Eloquence, we are struck with 
the remarkable fact, that its earliest annals are also those 
of its most signal triumphs. In that age of wonders, when 
Athens burst upon the world in all the splendor of her 
literature, her arts, and arms, eloquence was born. Like 
that most beautiful of the mythological fancies, the God- 
dess of Wisdom, it seems to have sprung at once to 
perfection, full-armed and glorious. We know, indeed, 
that Greece abounded in orators before the age of Demos- 
thenes. But the earlier and ruder efforts of the art, like 
the impassioned talks of our own Aborigines, perished 
with the occasions that produced them. The eloquence of 
Pericles, indeed, was of a higher stamp. He seems to have 
been the first great orator of Greece and the world. But 
though we are told, and can believe, that ' he thundered 
and lightened, and shook all Greece,' no authentic specimen 
of his powers remains. 

Of the Athenian orators immediately preceding, and 
contemporary with Demosthenes, we shall make no men- 
tion here, dimmed as they were and ever must be, by his 
incomparable splendor." 

Demosthenes was born at Athens, in the fourth year of 
the 9Sth Olympiad, b. c. 385 years. He lost his father, 
who was a wealthy citizen of Athens, at the early age of 
seven years. He was now left to the care of his mother. 

* N. Cleaveland, Esq. 



ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

The guardians to whom his father committed the adminis- 
tration of a large property, wasted a great portion of it, 
thus depriving the youth of the advantages of early 
education. But there w r ere other obstacles in the way 
of his literary and oratorical success. From his earliest 
years, his constitution was feeble, and his health delicate. 
There was, notwithstanding, a germ in his bosom which 
the misfortunes of life could not extirpate; a spark of 
eloquence w T hich was one day to burst forth in splendor. 
Sixteen years had scarcely passed when an opportunity 
occurred to excite the young Athenian. The ambition of 
Demosthenes to become a public speaker was first inflamed 
while he was attending a trial, in which Callistratus, a 
celebrated orator, won an important cause. When he saw 
the success of the orator, and heard the acclamations of 
the audience, he determined to devote himself forthwith 
to the careful study of eloquence. 

He chose Isams as his preceptor, and from Plato,* it is 
said, that he imbibed much of the richness and grandeur 
with which the writings of that philosopher are adorned. 

At the age of seventeen years we find Demosthenes before 
the public tribunals, arguing his own cause against his 
faithless guardians. In this contest the young orator came 
off triumphantly. His orations w r ere crowned with com- 
plete success. He next attempted to speak before the 
people; but, in his first address, was ridiculed and inter- 
rupted by the clamors of the audience. His feeble and 
stammering voice, his want of breath, his ungraceful 
gestures, and his confused sentences, rendered it difficult 

* Plato was one of the noblest characters of all antiquity. He was the 
disciple of Socrates and founder of the Acadamy at Athens. Here he instructed 
a large class of young men in the principles of philosophy. So exceedingly 
beautiful and magnificent is the style of Plato, that Cicero, when treating of 
the subject of diction, says, u If Jupiter were to speak in the Greek tongue, 
he wou'.d use the language of Plato." 



DEMOSTHENES. 7 

for him to be understood, and brought upon him general 
derision. After one of his unsuccessful attempts at public 
speaking, he was met, while returning home in the greatest 
distress, by the actor Satyrus, who requested him to recite 
some passage from Euripides or Sophocles. Satyrus then 
repeated the same passage, so correctly, so gracefully, and 
with such animation, that it appeared to the young student 
quite different. Demosthenes now saw how far action and 
enunciation go to form an orator. He also perceived in 
what his own defects lay, and resolved by the use of all 
possible means to overcome them. By untiring perseverance 
he at length accomplished his object, and became the 
prince of orators. To cure himself of stammering, he 
spoke with small pebbles in his mouth. It is also related 
that " he removed the distortion of features, which accom- 
panied his utterance, by watching the movements of his 
countenance in a mirror; and a naked sword was sus- 
pended over his left shoulder while he was declaiming in 
private, to prevent its rising above the level of the right. 
That his enunciation might be loud and full of emphasis, 
he frequently ran up the steepest and most uneven walks, 
an exercise by wiiich his voice acquired both force and 
energy ; and on the seashore, when the waves were violently 
agitated, he declaimed aloud, to accustom himself to the 
noise and tumult of a 23ublic assembly. He constructed a 
subterranean study, where he would often stay for two or 
three months together, shaving one side of his head, that, 
in case he should wish to go abroad, the shame of appear- 
ing in that condition might keep him within. In this 
solitary retreat, by the light of his lamp, he copied and 
recopied, ten times at least, the orations scattered through- 
out the history of Thucydides, for the purpose of mould- 
ing his own style after so pure a model."* 

* See an excellent article on Demosthenes in Anthon's Classical Dictionary 



8 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

We come now to notice, briefly, the political history of 
Demosthenes. Never had a political orator a wider field 
for the display of the highest powers of patriotic eloquence, 
than was opened when Philip of Macedon aimed at the 
overthrow of Grecian liberty. At the age of twenty-four, 
this crafty prince ascended the throne of Macedon. His 
first object was to crush his enemies at home, and enlarge 
his kingdom abroad. Successful in this he next planned the 
conquest of Greece. Invited by the Thessalians to side with 
them against the Phocians, in what is called the Sacred War, 
he marched his army into Thessaly, vanquished the enemy, 
and made a bold attempt to seize the famous pass of 
Thermopylae, the key of Greece. By this movement the 
Athenians were alarmed; an assembly of the people was 
convened, to determine the best course to be pursued in 
order to check his ambitious designs. Amidst the general 
excitement of the assembly, Demosthenes ascended the 
bema and delivered his first Philippic. Rising like one 
inspired, he endeavored, by all the powers of his indignant 
eloquence, to develop their excitement into action and to 
lead them to make vigorous war against Philip. 

W T e present the following extracts as the finest specimens 
of Demosthenes' style. We can gain, however, but a very 
imperfect idea of his style and manner from a translation. 
The reader should have recourse to the original. As the 
orator proceeded in his first Philippic, he broke forth in the 
following high tone of eloquence: 

"When, therefore, my countrymen ! when will you 
exert your vigor? Do you wait till roused by some dire 
event? till forced by some necessity? What then are we 
to think of our present condition? To freemen, the dis- 
grace attending on misconduct, is, in my opinion, the most 
urgent necessity. Or say, is it your sole ambition to 
wander through the public places, each inquiring of the 
other, ' What new advices? 5 Can any thing be more new 



DEMOSTHENES. 9 

than that a man of Macedon should conquer the Athenians 
and give law to Greece! ' Is Philip dead?' 'No; but he 
is sick.' Pray what is it to you whether Philip is sick or 
not? Supposing he should die you would raise up another 
Philip, if you continue thus regardless of your interest?" 

"Then as to your own conduct: some wander about, 
crying, Philip hath joined with the Lacedaemonians, and 
they are concerting the destruction of Thebes. Others 
assure us that he has sent an embassy to the king of Persia; 
others, that he is fortifying places in Illyria. Thus we all 
go about framing our several tales. I do believe, indeed, 
Athenians ! he is intoxicated with his greatness, and does 
entertain his imagination with many such visionary pros- 
pects, as he sees no power rising to oppose him, and is 
elated with his success." In the third Philippic, Demos- 
thenes continues in the same high strain: 

" All Greece, all the barbarian world, is too narrow for 
this man's ambition. And though we Greeks see and hear 
all this we send no embassies to each other; we express no 
resentment; but into such wretchedness are we sunk, that 
even to this day, we neglect what our interest and duty 
demand. Without engaging in associations, or forming 
confederacies, we look with unconcern upon Philip's 
growing power, each fondly imagining that the time in 
which another is destroyed, is so much time gained on 
him; although no man can be ignorant that, like the 
regular periodic return of a fever, he is coming upon those 
who think themselves the most remote from danger." 

" And what is the cause of our present passive disposition? 
For some cause sure there must be, why the Greeks who 
have been so zealous heretofore in defence of liberty, are 
now so prone to slavery. The cause, Athenians ! is that a 
principle which was formerly fixed in the minds of all, 
now exists no more; a principle which conquered the 
opulence of Persia, maintained the freedom of Greece, and 



10 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

triumphed over the powers of sea and land. That princi- 
ple was an unanimous abhorrence of all those who accepted 
bribes from princes, that were enemies to the liberties of 
Greece. To be convicted of bribery, was then a crimb 
altogether unpardonable. Neither orators, nor generals, 
would then sell for gold the favorable conjunctures which 
fortune put into their hands. No gold could impair our 
firm concord at home— our hatred of tyrants and barba- 
rians, But now all things are exposed to sale as in a 
public market. Corruption has introduced such manners 
as have proved the bane and destruction of our country. 
Is a man known to have received foreign money? People 
envy him. Does he own it? They laugh. Is he convicted 
in form? They forgive him. So universally has this con* 
tagion diffused itself among us." 

By the irresistible sway of Demosthenes' eloquence the 
Athenians were excited to indignation against Philip. To 
check the progress of the aspiring monarch, they im- 
mediately took up arms, and hastened to the spot, where 
Leonidas and his brave band had poured out their life- 
bood for the cause of liberty and of Greece. The remem- 
brance of this ancient heroism, doubtless, nerved the arm 
of Athens' noble sons as they marched against Philip, 
who, at this time, thought it pindent to retire from the 
pass of Thermopylae. Thus were the liberties of Greece 
preserved for another, and a fatal blow. The day was not 
far distant when the hopes of Demosthenes, and other 
freeborn patriots were to be dashed to the earth. 

While the Athenians were wasting their time in fruitless 
discussions, the wily prince of Macedon was not idle. 
Under pretence of attacking the Locrians, he marched 
his army into Greece, surprised and captured Elatsea, a 
city of Phocis, not very far distant from Athens. The 
capture of this important place may be said to have opened 
to Philip a passage into Attica. On the announcement of 



DEMOSTHENES. 11 

this event the Athenians were struck with terror. The 
scene of dismay and confusion which prevailed at Athens 
when the news came, is graphically described by Demos- 
thenes in his oration on the crown. We quote his eloquent 
description here, following Leland's translation: 

" Thus successful in confirming the mutual separation of 
our states, and elevated by these decrees and these replies, 
Philip now leads his forces forward and seizes Elatsea. 
You are no strangers to the confusion which this event 
raised within these walls. Yet permit me to relate some 
few striking circumstances of our own consternation. It 
was evening. A courier arrived, and repairing to the 
presidents of the senate, informed them that Elataea was 
taken. In a moment, some started from supper, ran to the 
public place, drove the traders from their stations, and set 
fire to their sheds; some sent round to call the generals; 
others clamored for the trumpeter. Thus was the city one 
scene of tumult. The next morning, by dawn of day, the 
presidents summoned the senate. The people were in- 
stantly collected, and before any regular authority could 
convene their assembly, the whole body of citizens had 
taken their places above. Then the senate entered; the 
presidents reported their advices, and produced the courier. 
He repeated his intelligence. The herald then asked in 
form, ' Who chooses to speak? All was silence. The 
invitation was frequently repeated. Still no man arose; 
though the generals, though the ordinary speakers were 
all present; though the voice of Athens then called on 
some man to speak and save her; for surely the regular 
and legal proclamation of the herald may be fairly deemed 
the voice of Athens. If an honest solicitude for the pre- 
servation of the state had on this occasion been sufficient 
to call forth a speaker; then, my countrymen, ye must have 
all risen and crowded to the gallery, for well I know this 
honest solicitude had full possession of your hearts. If 



1 2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

wealth had obliged a man to speak, the three hundred 
must have risen. If patriotic zeal and wealth united were 
the qualification necessary for the speaker, then should we 
have heard those generous citizens, whose beneficence was 
ifterward displayed so nobly in the service of the state; 
br their beneficence proceeded from this union of wealth 
and patriotic zeal. But the occasion, the great day, it 
seems, called, not only for a well-affected and an affluent 
citizen, but for the man who had traced these affairs to 
their very source; who had formed the exactest judgment 
of Philip's motives, of his secret intentions in this his 
conduct. He who was not perfectly informed of these ; he 
who had not watched the whole progress of his actions 
with consummate vigilance, however zealously affected to 
the state, however blessed with wealth, was in no wise 
better qualified to conceive or to propose the measures 
which your interests demanded on an occasion so critical. 
On that day, then, I was the man who stood forth."* 

Demosthenes, on this occasion, aroused his countrymen 
with a burst of eloquence which must have made even the 
iron will of Philip to falter on the throne of Macedon. 
It was then that he delivered that exciting oration which 

* " Demosthenes gives us a picture of the scene by a few distinct character- 
istic touches — the presidents starting from their seats in the midst of supper — 
rushing into the market place — tearing down the booths around it — burning up 
f .he hurdles even, though the space would not be wanted till the next day — 
sending for the generals — ciying out for the trumpeter — the council meeting 
on the morrow at break of day — the people (usually so reluctant to attend) 
pouring along to the assembly before the council had found a moment** 
opportunity to inquire or agree on measures — the entering of the council into 
the assembly — their announcing the news — their bringing forward the messen- 
ger to tell his story: And then the proclamation of the herald. ' Who will 
speakV — the silence of all — the voice of their common country, crying out 
again through the herald, ' Who will speak for our leliverance?' — all re- 
maining silent — when Demosthenes arose, and suggested measures which 
caused all these dangers to pass away like a cloud!" — Goodrich. 



DEMOSTHENES. 13 

made the whole assembly cry out with one voice, " To 
arms! To arms! Lead us against Philip!" 

Two thousand years afterwards, the same enthusiasm 
which then, amid their graceful columns, inspired the 
excitable Athenians, and filled their spacious amphitheater 
with a shout that rose to the warm, blue sky of Greece, 
awoke among sterner men, in a colder climate, and made 
the plain walls of a church in Virginia echo with a cry as 
bold and more determined. That was in response to the 
words of Patrick Henry, the forest-born Demosthenes, 
when he uttered in tones of thunder those ever memorable 
words, " I know not what course others may take, but, as 
for me, give me Liberty, or give me Death!" 

It is in the darkest crises of national struggles for inde- 
pendence, amid storms and tempests, that we see the 
greatest political orators arise, and hear the thunders of 
their mighty eloquence, shaking thrones and kingdoms to 
their center. It is then that we hear them exclaim with 
Patrick Henry, " Whatever others do, I'll fight," and with 
John Adams, at the solemn crisis of the vote of the 4th of 
July, 1776, " Independence now, and Independence for 

EVER !" 

At the head of an embassy, Demosthenes hastened to 
Thebes, and persuaded the Thebans to espouse the cause 
of Athens. So powerful was the effect of his oratory upon 
them, that, notwithstanding their previous attachment to 
Philip, they warmly united with the Athenians against the 
common enemy of Grecian liberty.* At length the crisis 

* The strong eloquence of Demosthenes, says an ancient historian, blowing 
into the souls of the Thebans like an impetuous wind, rekindled there so 
warm a zeal for their country, and so ardent a passion for liberty, that, ban- 
ishing from their minds every idea of fear, of prudence, or gratitude, his 
discourse transported and ravished them like a fit of enthusiasm, and inflamed 
them solely with the love of true glory. Here we have a proof of the mighty 
influence which eloquence has over the minds of men, especially when it is 



14 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

came. In the year 338 b. a, a battle was fought between 
the Athenian and Macedonian forces, near Chaeronea, a 
city of Bceotia. The Macedonians were victorious. It is 
stated that more than a thousand Athenians were left dead 
upon the field. Demosthenes threw down his arms, and 
ingloriously fled from the scene of slaughter. This battle 
proved that he was greater as an orator and statesman than 
as a soldier; that his courage was political, rather than 
military. 

By this disastrous conflict, a fatal blow fell upon Greece. 
Her liberty was lost, and her eloquence, that flame which 
can burn only on the altars of freedom, was forever 
extinguished. Well may we say with the poet: 

4 ' Ah Eloquence* thou wast undone; 

Wast from thy native country driven, 
When Tyranny eclips'd the sun, 
And blotted out the stars of heaven." 

Shortly after the battle of Chaeronea, Demosthenes dis- 
played his generosity by repairing the fortifications of 
Athens, partly at his own expense. In consideration of 
the many important public services which he had rendered 
the state, the Athenians, on the proposal of Ctesiphon, 
decreed him a crown of gold. The reward was strongly 
opposed by iEschines,* who maintained that the proposal 

heightened by a love and zeal for the public good. One single man swayed all 
things at his will in the assemblies of Athens and Thebes, where he was 
equally loved, respected, and feared. 

*^Eschines, the celebrated rival of Demosthenes, was born, as some authori- 
ties state, at Athens, B. C. 397. He was about twelve years older than De- 
mosthenes. He died at Samos, at the age of 75 years. Quintilian places him 
in the first rank among Grecian orators, next to Demosthenes. 

" The Abbe Barthelemy makes the eloquence of iEschines to be distinguished 
by a happy flow of words, by an abundance and clearness of ideas, and by an 
air of great ease, which arose less from art than nature. The ancient writers 
appear to agree in this, that the manner of iEschines is softer, more insinuat- 
ing, and more delicate than that of Demosthenes, but that the latter is more 
grave, forcible and convincing. The one has more of address, and the other 



DEMOSTHENES. 15 

was illegal, and brought a suit against Ctesiplion, which 
was intended to overpower Demosthenes. This famous 
prosecution was commenced about the year 338 b. a; but 
the trial was delayed eight years. At length it came on. 
To witness this mighty, intellectual contest, an immense 
concourse of spectators from all parts of Greece, was 
attracted to Athens. It was the greatest combat of elo- 
quence that the world has ever witnessed. The harangue 
of iEsehines was powerful and sarcastic* But Demos- 
thenes was irresistible as a mountain torrent, and bore his 
accuser down. iEsehines did not receive the fifth part of 
the votes of the judges. By the laws of Athens, he thus 
became liable to fine and banishment ; and accordingly he 
went in exile to Rhodes. There he established a school 
of rhetoric, in which he read the two orations to his 
pupils. His, was received with approbation, but that of 
Demosthenes, with the greatest applause. " What then 

more of strength and energy. The one endeavors to steal, the other to force, 
the assent of his auditors. In the harmony and elegance, the strength and 
beauty of their language, both are deserving of high commendation, but the 
figures of the one are finer, of the other, bolder. In Demosthenes we see a 
more sustained effort; in JEschines, vivid, though momentary, flashes of oratory." 1 
Of his three orations the most celebrated is that against Ctesiphon, in which 
he so vehemently denounces Demosthenes. 

* The following brief extract from this oration will afford the reader a spe- 
cimen of the style of iEsehines: 

" When Demosthenes boasts to you, Athenians, of his democratic zeal, 
examine, not his harangues, but his life; not what he professes to be, but 
what he really is; — redoubtable in words, impotent in deeds; plausible in 
speech, perfidious in action. As to his courage — has he not himself, before the 
assembled people, confessed his poltroonery! By the laws of Athens, the man 
who refuses to bear arms, the coward, the deserter of his post in battle, is ex- 
cluded from all share in the public deliberations, denied admission to our 
igious rites, and rendered incapable of receiving the honor of a crown. Yet 
vv it is proposed to crown a man whom your laws expressly disqualify!" 
■' Which, think you, was the more worthy citizen, Themistocles, who com- 
mded your fleet when you vanquished the Persians at Salami-s, or Demos- 
2nes the deserter? — Miltiades, who conquered the barbarians at Marathon 



1 6 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

would you have thought," exclaimed iEschines, " had you 
heard the liou himself?" 

This speech of Demosthenes is the most perfect speci 
men that eloquence has ever produced. " For withering 
sarcasm, burning invective, lofty declamation, for all 
that is spirit-stirring and glorious in eloquence, there is 
not on record, in any language, as noble and perfect a 
specimen as this oration for the crown." It is regarded 
as such by two of the most eminent critics of ancient 
times; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, and Quintilian; and 
such is the opinion of modern writers on eloquence. 
Lord Brougham styles it, " The greatest oration of the 
greatest orator." This oration abounds in magnificent 
expressions, and sudden bursts of overwhelming eloquence. 
The famous oath by those who fell at Marathon is the 
sublimest passage in the whole speech. " The most figu- 
rative and highly wrought passage in all antiquity " says 
the same writer, " is the famous oath in Demosthenes. 



or this hireling traitor? — Aristides, surnamed the Just, or Demosthenes, who 
merits a far different surname? By all the Gods of Olympus, it is a profanation 
to mention in the same breath this monster and those great men ! Let him 
cite, if he can, one among them all to whom a crown was decreed. And was 
Athens ungrateful? No! She was magnanimous; and those uncrowned 
citizens were worthy of Athens. They placed their glory, not in the letter 
of a decree, but in the remembrance of a country, of which they had merited 
well, — in the living, imperishable remembrance!'' 

" And now a popular orator — the mainspring of our calamities — a deserter 
from the field of battle, a deserter from the city — claims of us a crown, exacts 
the honor of a proclamation! Crown him'? Proclaim his worth? My 
eountrymen, this would not be to exalt Demosthenes, but to degrade your- 
selves, — to dishonor those brave men who perished for you in battle. Crown 
him! Shall his recreancy win what was denied to their devotion? This would 
indeed be to insult the memory of the dead, and to paralyze the emulation of 
the living!" * * * 

' ; From those who fell at Marathon and at Plataea — from Themistocles — from 
the very sepulchers of your ancestors — issues the protesting groan of condem- 
nation and rebuke!" 



DEMOSTHENES. 1 7 

From this oration we present the following passage, set- 
ting forth the public spirit of the Athenians, and contain- 
ing the celebrated oath which we have just mentioned: 

" The Athenians never were known to live contented in 
a slavish though secure obedience to unjust and arbitrary 
power. No. Our whole history is a series of gallant con- 
tests for preeminence: the whole period of our national 
existence hath been spent in braving dangers, for the sake 
of glory and renown. And so highly do you esteem such 
conduct, as characteristic of the Athenian spirit, that those 
of your ancestors who were most eminent for it are ever 
the most favorite objects of your praise. And with reason: 
for, who can reflect, without astonishment, on the mag- 
nanimity of those men who resigned their lands, gave up 
their city, and embarked in their ships, rather than live 
at the bidding of a stranger? The Athenians of that day 
looked out for no speaker, no general, to procure them a 
state of easy slavery. They had the spirit to reject even 
life, unless they were allowed to enjoy that life in freedom. 
For it was a principle fixed deeply in every breast, that 
man was not born to his parents only, but to his country 
And mark the distinction. He who regards himself as 
born only to his parents waits in passive submission for the 
hour of his natural dissolution. He who considers that 
he is the child of his country, also, volunteers to meet 
death rather than behold that country reduced to vassalage; 
and thinks those insults and disgraces which he must en- 
dure, in a state enslaved, much more terrible than death." 

" Should I attempt to assert that it was I who inspired 
you with sentiments worthy of your ancestors. I should 
meet the just resentment of every hearer. No : it is my 
point to show that such sentiments are properly your own; 
that they were the sentiments of my country long before 
my days. I claim but my share of merit in having acted 
on such principles in every part of my administration. 



18 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

He, then, who condemns every part of my administration; 
he who directs you to treat me with severity, as one who 
hath involved the state in terrors and dangers; while he 
labors to deprive me of present honor, robs you of the 
applause of all posterity. For, if you now pronounce, 
that, as my public conduct hath not been right, Ctesiphon 
must stand condemned, it must be thought that you your- 
selves have acted wrong, not that you owe your present 
state to the caprice of fortune. But it can not be! No, 
my countrymen, it can not be that you have acted wrong 
in encountering danger bravely for the liberty and safety 
of all Greece. No ! I swear it by the spirits of our sires, 
who rushed upon destruction at Marathon ! — by those who 
stood arrayed at Plataea! — by those who fought the sea- 
fight at Salamis! — by the men of Artemisium! — by the 
others, so many and so brave, who now rest in our public 
sepulchers ! — all of whom their country judged worthy of 
the same honor; all, I say, .ZEschines; not those only who 
prevailed, not those only who were victorious. — And with 
reason. What was the part of gallant men, they all per- 
formed. Their success was such as the supreme Ruler of 
the world dispensed to each."* 

=* On the style of Demosthenes' orations we subjoin the remarks of three 
eminent critics: 

"Demosthenes moves, warms, and captivates the heart. Every oration of 
his is a close chain of reasoning, that represents the generous notions of a soul 
who disdains any thought that is not great. His discourses gradually increase 
in force hy greater light and new reasons, which are always illustrated by bold 
figures and lively images. One can not but see that he has the good of the 
republic entirely at heart, and that nature itself speaks in all his transports 5 
for his artful address is so masterly that it never appears. Nothing ever 
equaled the force and vehemence of his discourses." — Fenelon's Dialogues 
Ccnceming Eloquence; Dial, i, p. 20. 

4 ' The style of Demosthenes is so strong, so close, and nervous ; it is every- 
where so just, so exactly concise, that there is nothing too much or too little 
What distinguishes his eloquence is the impetuosity of the expression, the 



DEMOSTHENES. 19 

Soon after this brilliant, intellectual victory, Demos- 
thenes was convicted of receiving a bribe from Harpalus,* 
a fugitive from the army of Alexander the Great. He was 
fined fifty talents (nearly $50,000); and being unable to 
pay this sum, was thrown into prison. Escaping from 
prison, he fled to iEgina, whence he could behold the 
shores of his beloved country — that land, for the preser- 
vation of whose liberties, he had exerted all his powers. 
On the death of Alexander, in the year 323 b. c, De- 
choice of words, and the beauty of the disposition; which, being supported 
throughout and accompanied with force and sweetness, keeps the attention of 
the judges perpetually fixed.' 1 

" What we admire in Demosthenes is the plan, the series, and the order and 
disposition of the oration-, it is the strength of the proofs, the solidity of the 
arguments, the grandeur and nobleness of the sentiments and of the style; the 
vivacity of the turns and figures; in a word, the wonderful art of representing 
the subjects he treats in all their luster, and displaying them in all their 
strength. 1 ' — Rollings Belles Lettres. 

lt His orations are strongly animated, and fall of the impetuosity and fire of 
public spirit. They proceed in a continued train of inductions, consequences, 
and demonstrations founded on sound reason. The figures which he uses, are 
never sought after; but always rise from the subject. He employs them spa- 
ringly, indeed; for splendor and ornament are not the distinctions of this 
orators composition. It is an energy of thought peculiar to himself, which 
forms his character, and sets him above all others. He appears to attend much 
more to things than to words. We forget the orator and think of the business. 
He warms the mind, and impels it to action. 

'' The style of Demosthenes is strong and concise, though sometimes, it must 
not be dissembled, harsh and abrupt. His words are very expressive ; his arrange- 
ment is firm and manly; and though far from being unmusical, yet it seems 
difficult to find in him thac studied, but concealed number, and rythmus, which 
some of the ancient critics are fond of attributing to him. Negligent of these 
lesser graces one would rather conceive him to have aimed at that sublime 
which lies in sentiment." — Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric. 

* During the expedition of Alexander to India, this Harpalus had the charge 
of the Babylonian treasury, on which he committed great excesses ; fearing the 
resentment of his master he fled to Attica with five thousand talents accompa- 
nied by six thousand men, and sough refuge in Athens. 



20 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

mostlienes was recalled from banishment by the Athenians. 
A public galley was sent by the citizens to convey him 
from JEgina. Athens was waiting anxiously for its return. 
As the day when it was expected approached, groups of 
citizens gathered every morning on the shore, and looked 
eagerly over the water to catch its first appearance on the 
horizon. When at length it appeared, a small speck upon 
the blue expanse, the joyful news spread from those who 
stood by the water through the whole city. Onward the 
tidings passed from citizen to citizen; along the busy 
streets; through the crowded market place; among the 
columns of Minerva's temple, till it reached the lofty 
Acropolis. Men and women hastened to the harbor, and 
even the children left their toys with shouts that Demos- 
thenes was returning. Crowded upon the shore, stood 
young and old, gazing in silence on the galley which was 
now rapidly approaching. One well-known form stood 
quietly upon its deck, conspicuous among all around. 
Those ardent Athenians could not forget it. It was the 
same which had roused them to fury against Philip; it 
was the same which had crushed iEschines with sarcasm; 
it was the same from which came that sublime oath, " By 
those who stood arrayed at Plataea." One single movement 
of that eloquent arm, as the galley approached the Piraeus, — 
and there burst from the crowd the cry, " Demosthenes, 
Demosthenes." Well might he exclaim as the galley 
touched the shore, " Happier is my return than that of 
Alcibiades. It was through compulsion that the Athenians 
restored him, but they have recalled me from a motive of 
kindness." 

But the sunshine of his happiness did not continue long: 
a dark cloud was soon thrown over his prospects, when 
his hopes were crushed forever. When the Grecian con- 
federacy was destroyed, and when the Macedonian party 



ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 2 1 

was triumphant, Antipater, its victorious leader, demanded 
that Demosthenes should be given up to his vengeance. 
Necessity compelled the Athenians to consent. Pursued 
by his enemies, Demosthenes took refuge in the temple of 
Neptune, on the island of Calauria, where he terminated 
his life by poison, at the age of above sixty years. 

It remains for us, briefly, to notice his oratorical char- 
acter. Among orators, the name of Demosthenes shines 
with incomparable splendor. By the unanimous consent 
of all ages and nations, it has been allowed to stand pre- 
eminent in the history of eloquence. It is admitted every- 
where that no one in ancient or modern times ever poured 
out his eloquence in such a lofty, soul-stirring strain, or 
with such electric energy as this great master of the human 
passions. 

Says a wise reviewer, " The superiority of Demosthenes, 
and his claim to rank as the greatest of orators, is uni- 
versally admitted. His reputation, like that of Homer, 
than which it is only less ancient, may be considered as 
resting on an immovable basis. It is established by the 
admiration of his acute and fastidious countrymen — by 
the unbounded sway which he exerted over them — and by 
the dread with which he inspired their foes. Cicero, the 
all-accomplished orator, philosopher and statesman, Quin- 
tilian, the greatest of rhetoricians, and Loginus, the ablest 
of critics, alike awarded to him the palm of unrivaled 
eloquence. Nor has the decision of antiquity been reversed 
by the moderns. Little as his sententious energy has been 
imitated, its vast superiority has been conceded by all. 

The grand characteristic of this great man is, undoubt- 
edly, strength. ' His peculiar properties,' says Longinus, 
1 specially vouchsafed to him by immediate dispensation 
of the Divinity, were unrivaled and miapproachable vigor 
and power.' It is, perhaps, more easy to perceive the 



22 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

fact, than to tell wherein the great strength of this intel- 
lectual Samson lay. 

We may say, in the first place, that he was eminently 
argumentative. No orator can be named, who, in this 
respect is more original, more ingenious, or more logical 
In statement he is succinct and clear. His arrangement is 
perfect without the show of arrangement; and he is un- 
erring in the sagacity with which he discovers his own 
strong points, and the weak ones of his adversary. 

But his argumentation is never dry — it is never cold. 
His reasoning seems to proceed as much from the heart as 
from the head. He so intermingles his declamation with 
his argument, that it never appears to be declamation. 
Through the entire texture of his discourse, reason and 
passion, passion and reason, like warp and woof, are beau- 
tifully interwoven. Or perhaps it would be more accurate 
to say of this peculiar feature, that his argument is impas- 
sioned, and his declamation logical. The profound, bril- 
liant, impetuous flow of his eloquence is like that of some 
great river, when having escaped its rocky barriers, it has 
gained the gentler inclination of the alluvial plains; no 
longer chafed and frothy as among the hills, nor discolored 
yet by admixture with the sea — deep, clear, rapid, spark- 
ling — it rolls along, a noble image of beauty, grandeur, 
and irresistible power. 

His conciseness has already been named. This trait was 
carried by our orator to such an extreme, that some have 
even deemed it a fault. But this we would be slow to 
assert. It is unquestionably one great source of his power. 
Everything is finished with consummate care Every 
word is significant and apt; and that very place is assigned 
to each, which makes it most effective. Hence, indeed, 
arises no small part of the difficulty of transfusing his 
spirit and power into another language. 



DEMOSTHENES. 23 

With that exquisite tact, which never forsakes him, he 
stops always at the precise point of greatest effect. Having 
made a bold or happy stroke he passes on to his argument 
or inference. By no needless explanation — by no super- 
fluous embellishment, does he endanger the effect, or incur 
the hazard of " tearing his subject to tatters.'* How unlike, 
in this respect, to most orators of modern times! 

But nothing seems to have attracted the wonder and 
admiration of his readers so much, as that oblivion of 
self which is conspicuous on every page. It is to the 
Olynthiacs and Philippics that we now refer. In these 
immortal productions Demosthenes seems to be nothing; 
his subject — his cause — his country — every thing. Widely 
different was the case with Cicero, whose elaborate pictures 
rarely failed to exhibit the orator himself, the most promi- 
nent figure in the foreground. While we follow the 
Grecian orator, we cease to wonder at his success. Such 
earnestness and sincerity; such all-absorbing, self-renoun- 
cing patriotism, exhibited with such force of argument, 
and such powers of appeal, could not but be resistless, for 
we can not resist them ourselves. Once fairly in the 
stream, the torrent bears us on. We think not of stopping; 
we can not stop if we would. Unreluctant captives, we 
surrender at discretion, and realize that it is exciting and 
delightful, thus to feel the influence of one master mind. 

While still ' our little barks attendant sail, 
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale.' 

As yet we have contemplated the orator only as he is, — 
speaking to us from the written page, and i a a language, 
which by a sort of misnomer we call dead. But we shal] 
have only an imperfect estimation of his power, until we 
have formed some adequate ^conception of what he was. 
We must cross the western and midland oceans, we must 
run up the stream of time two thousand years, — we must 



24 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

sec the orator standing in the pride of his living power, 
and on the very scene of his immortal triumphs. A native 
of the small island of Seriphus once reproached Theniis- 
tocles with deriving his greatness from that of his country. 
' It may be so/ was the reply, ' but thou could'st no more 
have been renowned at Athens, than I at Seriphus. The 
sentiment thus expressed is of universal application. 
Great talents may exist and be discoverable any where, 
but they can attain to the full measure of their greatness 
only when Providence places them in a sphere of com- 
mensurate extent. Such a sphere, Demosthenes undoubt 
edly had. 

It is well known that all the essential powers of the 
Athenian state were vested in the people. The government 
of Athens was to all intents an unmixed and unmitigated 
democracy. All matters, both of internal and external 
policy, all questions both of peace and war, were debated 
and decided in the popular assembly. The Athenians were 
a remarkable race ; a people of ardent temperament, and 
clear and active intellect. Perhaps no other community 
of equal extent has ever existed, so polished, so universally 
literary. Accustomed to constant attendance on dramatic 
exhibitions; that faultless drama, which to this day is the 
unrivaled model of simplicity and beauty; living in an 
age and land, in which the fine arts, history, poetry and 
eloquence were carried to the very zenith of perfection, 
the Athenians had become in all matters of taste and 
language, ingeniously acute, fastidiously critical. Prone 
to admiration, more prone to distrust; passionately devoted 
to war and glory, still more devoted to pleasure and ease; 
indolent, fickle, turbulent, at home; when abroad, active, 
patient, brave ; the Athenian character was a singular com- 
pound of good and evil. Such was the people whom 
Demosthenes addressed. 

Let us enter their assembly. The place of meeting is an 



DEMOSTHENES. 25 

amphitheater of vast extent. Its canopy is the open sky. 
In the rear, but high above them, towers the Acropolis* 
glorious with that architectural splendor, on whose crumb- 
ling relics we still gaze with the admiration of despair. 
Before them is the blue iEgean; their gallant navy riding 
by the shore, and in the distance, ' unconquered Salamis,' 
the scene of its early glory. On those stone benches, are 
seated, within reach of a single speaker's eye and voice an 
entire myriad of human beings, met here on terms of per- 
fect equality, to deliberate on the state of the nation. The 
civil and military power which they wield, is no other than 
that which once repelled the millions of Persia, and which 
since, on a thousand hard-fought fields of intestine and of 
foreign war, has drawn around it all that sympathy which 
we naturally feel in brilliant success and unparalleled 
disaster. All feel it to be a scene of overwhelming in- 
terest. The moment is big with the fate of empires. On 
the decisions of the hour may depend the question, 
whether Athens shall longer be the eye of Greece, and 
glory of the world. Nay, more — freedom and slavery — 
national existence and national extinction may now be 
oscillating in the balance of fate. 

Philip of Macedon, an ambitious and able monarch, has 
been long aiming at the sovereignty of Greece. No means 
likely to effect his purpose have been left untried. One 
after another of the Grecian states has yielded to Macedo- 
nian arms, or arts, or gold. Athens alone was competent 
to resist the usurper. Moved by the threatening danger 
and harangues of Demosthenes, more than once has she 
roused herself to action, and after checking the tyrant's 
career, sunk again into security. But intelligence has 
come of new and more alarming encroachments. Treaties 
have been violated; provinces overrun; cities in alliance 
computed and destroyed. The designs of the king are 
but too manifest; the danger is great and imminent. Al- 



26 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ready lias the herald, according to custom, called on those 
who have anything to offer in the present emergency, to 
come forward and give their advice. Already has age 
uttered its warning voice, and eloquence painted in glow- 
ing colors the magnitude and difficulty of a war with 
Philip. The timid, the prudent, and the venal, have 
united in magnifying the power and clemency of the mon- 
arch; in portraying the weakness of the republic, and in 
urging the necessity of conciliation and submission. There 
are evident indications that the advice is not unwelcome 
to the indolent and pleasure-loving sons of Athens. Dares 
any, under these circumstances, offer a contrary opinion'? 
Considering the fearful odds and the great uncertainty, 
will any venture to propose a war with Philip, knowing 
that should the measure be adopted, and prove unsuccess- 
ful, the author of such advice may be put to death by the 
laws of his country? But lo! Demosthenes ascends the 
rostrum. Self-possessed, unassuming, yet conscious of his 
powers, it is his purpose to stem the tide which he sees 
advancing; to roll back the current: to operate, in other 
words, on this mass of mind, and bend, and melt, and 
mould it to his own. He spends no breath in labored 
introduction, but enters at once on his subject. In terms 
of cutting severity, he chides the supineness and false 
security of his countrymen. Yet so unquestioned is his 
integrity; such the sincerity of his patriot ardor; so evi- 
dently good his motive, that he awakens no resentment, 
excites no feelings but those of shame. He allows, indeed, 
that much is lost, but much still remains. He suffers no 
despondence. He unfolds the resources of the state, and 
convinces his countrymen that nothing is even now needed 
but resolution and perseverance. Above all, he portrays 
with vivid brightness the injustice and the designs of 
Philip. The ambitious monarch, the unprincipled man, is 
set before us. Every winding of his crooked policy is 



DEMOSTHENES. 27 

unravelled: every latent motive set in the blazt of day. 
As he proceeds, indignation glows in every breast — quivers 
on the lip — kindles in the eye. 

Finally, he calls up the images of the past. The earlier 
glories of Athens; the spirit of their fathers, who preferred 
death to ignominy; that renown, beyond the reach even of 
envy, which they w r on; the institutions which they be- 
queathed, and the monuments of their taste and glory still 
clustering thick around, are touched with equal rapidity 
and power. One victory, at least, is gained — the victory of 
the orator. Ten thousand minds feel and acknowledge 
the mastery of one. Yet such is the charm of his elo- 
quence, that they think not of him — they think not of 
themselves. High thoughts of country fill every soul. At 
his Caducean touch, irresolution and pusillanimity have 
vanished. Philip is no longer dreaded; the Macedonian 
phalanx is no longer invincible. Marathon and Platsea 
are before them. Mars once more woos them to his fierce 
embrace, and Minerva, their own Minerva, marshals them 
to victory. 

'The jarring states, obsequious now, 
View the patriot's hand on high ; 
Thunder gathering on his brow, 
Lightning flashing from his eye." 

' Borne by the tides of words along, 
One voice, one mind, inspire the throng; 
'To arms! to arms! to arms!' they cry; 
' Grasp the shield, and draw the sword, 
Lead us to Philippic lord, 
Let us conquer him — or die! 1 " 

We may inquire a little more particularly into the cause 
of the wonderful success of Demosthenes in public speak- 
ing. What were some more of his most distinguished 
characteristics? In what did the great secret of his power 
lie? 



2 3 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

In contemplating this prince of orators, we find that 
industry and perseverance were leading traits in his char- 
acter. Without these inestimable qualities he could never 
have attained the grand summit at which he finally 
arrived. What a noble instance of untiring perseverance 
is displayed in the history of Demosthenes! How deeply 
does he .command our admiration when we contemplate 
him in solitude, laboring with all his might to overcome 
his natural defects, and to acquire the most admirable and 
forcible delivery in public speaking! This persevering 
energy is the grand characteristic of all who are celebrated 
for their attainments in oratory, science, and general 
literature, — whose names shine with resplendency on the 
page of history. To this indomitable trait of character 
they were indebted for the performance of their greatest 
labors; for the magnificence of those intellectual monu- 
ments Avhich they have reared for the admiration of all 
ages and nations. The necessity of untiring labor and 
perseverance in those who aspire to eminence in the higher 
walks of scholarship is eloquently enforced by Dr. Chal- 
mers.* 

" It is by dint of steady labor; it is by giving enough of 
application to the work, and having enough of time for the 
doing of it; it is by regular pains-taking and the plying 
of constant assiduities; it is by these, and not by any pro- 
cess of legerdemain, that we secure the strength and staple 
of real excellence. It was thus, that Demosthenes, clause 
after clause, and sentence after sentence, elaborated, and 
that to the uttermost, his immortal orations; it was thus 
that Newton pioneered his way, by the steps of an ascend- 

* See the Life and Writings of Thomas Chalmers, D. D., LL.D. by 
Rev. William Hanna, LL.D. This is an interesting and useful wotIc, 
and should he in the library of ever literary man. The life of Dr. Chalmers 
was a particular favorite with Henry Clay, and one of the books which ha 
read most in the evening of his life. 



DEMOSTHENES. 29 

ing geometry, to the mechanism of the heavens- after 
which, he left this testimony behind him, that he was 
conscious of nothing else but a habit of patient thinking, 
which could at all distinguish him from other men." 

But another great secret of Demosthenes' success in 
oratory lay in his honesty. His political principles, and his 
burning eloquence emanated from the depths of his soul. 
As his sentiments were expressed in the most earnest and 
impassioned manner, every one could not but feel that they 
originated in a patriotic spirit, and were delivered with 
all the sincerity which characterizes the citizen, whose 
highest and noblest aim is the promotion of the prosperity 
and happiness of his beloved country. Demosthenes was 
deeply impressed with those principles which he endeavored 
to infuse into the mind of his audience. He was con' 
vinced of their truth and expediency. 

He, moreover, possessed that acute sensibility, without 
which a public speaker has but little power over a popular 
assembly. Sensibility is an essential quality in the forma- 
tion of a powerful orator. Without it, he can not control 
his audience; nor can he attain the highest end of elo- 
quence, which is to affect the heart, to convince the 
judgment, to move the passions, to sway the whole man. 
Those sudden and magnificent bursts of oratory, which 
have delighted and astonished audiences, and produced 
such irrepressible and thrilling emotions, have emanated 
from sensibility in the speaker. It was this that inspired 
Demosthenes in some of the loftiest strains and grandest 
bursts of his thundering eloquence. It was this, which 
gave rise to some of the most beautiful, touching, and 
sublime passages in the speeches of Chatham, Burke, 
Grattan, Erskine, Henry, Ames, and Clay. 

The transferring of his own burning thoughts to the 
hearts of those whom he addressed was the sublime end 
of the great Athenian's oratorical efforts. This should be 



30 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the grand object of every public speaker. If his own 
emotions are thus communicated to his hearers ; if Ma 
own glowing spirit is poured into their sympathizing souls, 
success must crown his noble efforts, and the highest end 
of eloquence be attained. True eloquence is " logic set 
on fire. It is a great and fervent spirit, pouring itself, 
in a living torrent, into the hearts and souls of its audit- 
ors." Lord Erskine has somewhere forcibly remarked, that 
" intellect alone, however exalted, without strong feelings, 
without even irritable sensibility, would be only like an 
immense magazine of powder, if there were no such ele- 
ment as fire in the natural world. It is the heart which 
is the spring and fountain of all eloquence." 

" The great orators of antiquity labored long and pas- 
sionately to develop their own sensibilities, and, in 
speaking, to make their heart a mighty auxiliary to their 
intellect. They strove to feed the fires of their eloquence 
with the choicest materials, selected from the most glowing 
sources ; not as dry quotations, frigid ornaments tagged to 
the limping dullness of their own stupid thoughts, but as 
spontaneous contributions of volcanic heat and power, 
kindling where they fell and blending with the flames 
they augmented. Their minds were rich with the selectest 
stores of elegant literature, and as some' pertinent maxim 
or splendid illustration occurred in extemporaneous dis- 
course, the gem grew suddenly brilliant amid the corus- 
cations of inflamed fancy, while the orator poured his 
whole soul into his quotation, and sent it, revivified and 
blazing to every enraptured bosom." 

A proper action and pronunciation are indispensable to 
success in oratory. Without them an oration would lose 
its greatest charm and power. The action and pronuncia- 
tion of Demosthenes are said to have been uncommonly 
vehement. 

He was thoroughly convinced of the importance of a 



DEMOSTHENES. 31 

proper enunciation and action in public address. Such an 
importance did he attach to the manner of the public 
speaker, that, to one who asked him what was the. first 
requisite in an orator, he merely replied, " Delivery" and 
when asked what were the second and third requisites, he 
gave the same answer as at first. " His idea was this : a life- 
less manner on the part of a public speaker, shows that his 
own feelings are not enlisted in the cause which he is ad- 
vocating, and it is idle for him, therefore, to seek to make 
converts of others, when he has failed in making one 
of himself. On the other hand, when the tone of voice, 
the gesture, the look, the whole manner of the orator, 
display the powerful feelings that agitate him, his emotion 
is communicated to his hearers, and success is inevitable. 
It was not, therefore, mere c action ' that Demosthenes 
required in an orator, an error into which some have 
fallen from a mistranslation of the Latin rhetorical term 
' actio,' as employed by Cicero (Brut., 37), in mentioning 
this incident; but was an attention to the whole manner 
of delivery, the look, the tone, the every movement, as so 
many unerring indications of internal emotion, and of the 
honesty and sincerity of the speaker." 

A graceful and vehement style of delivery, imparts to 
true eloquence its fascinating, overwhelming power. It 
should be the steady aim of the young orator to attain 
such a delivery. Let him study the oratorical character of 
Demosthenes and Cicero, of Chatham and Fox, of Patrick 
Henry and Clay, of Webster and Everett. Let him dwell 
on their beauties, and infuse them into his own mind. 

But the greatest charm of Demosthenian eloquence 
consisted in action. The delivery of Demosthenes must 
have been admirable, and imposing in the highest degree. 
The propriety of his enunciation, the gracefulness and' 
vehemence of his a< tion, the glowing expression of his 
countenance, the fire of his eye, the thunder of his voice, — 



&Z ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

all combined to render him the first of orators, and to 
impart to his orations a magical power. 

We have thus seen, that the grand characteristics of 
this prince of orators, were " strength, sublimity, and a 
piercing energy and force, aided by an emphatic and 
vehement elocution." 

We may here observe with an able critic, that the great 
elements of the highest style of eloquence, those which 
constitute the tawo*-^, the nameless energy of the ancients, 
are close, rapid, powerful, practical, reasoning, animated 
by intense passion. These are the great elements: philo- 
sophical reflection and splendid imagery, are valuable 
only as occasional auxiliaries, and are always of subordi- 
nate importance. Let any one look at the orations of De- 
mosthenes: his eloquence has but few traces of either of 
the above qualities. His philosophy never assumes the 
form of abstract propositions or general reflections; it is 
rather an application of them to particular circumstances. 
Like history, his eloquence is philosophy teaching by 
examples. In the same manner, his illustrations are 
almost always in the form of metaphor; characterized by 
force far more than by beauty, and expressed with the 
utmost possible conciseness. Not an epithet is wasted in 
mere ornament.* 

To the great, absorbing topic of his political career, 
Demosthenes was, in no small degree, indebted for the 
glory which has encircled his name as an orator. The 
subject, on which he expatiated with burning delight, 
doubtless contributed in some degree, to produce those 
wonderful effects which are said to have accompanied his 
most impassioned bursts of declamation. It was one of 
the highest moment to every friend .of Grecian liberty 
and most favorable for a display of true eloquence. " Elo 

* Henry Rogers. 



DEMOSTHENES. 33 

quern*," says Cicero, u is speaking in a manner proper to 
persuade," and we know that a great part of the political 
life of Demosthenes was spent in persuading the Atheni- 
ans to take up arms against Philip. 

Persuasion should be the one grand object at ail times 
kept in view by every public speaker. He should not 
merely expatiate on the beauties and glories of his theme; 
he should not merely state propositions, and discuss doc- 
trines, but persuade his hearers to adopt the principles 
which he lays down; to embrace the views, which he pre- 
sents; and to act with promptness and decision as he 
directs. Throughout the political discourses of Demos- 
thenes abounds the art of persuasion, and no political 
orator ever had a finer field for the exercise of its power. 
Philip was on the point of conquering Greece, the Athe- 
nians had degenerated, and lost, in a great measure, the 
heioism and valor of their ancestors, when Demosthenes 
appeared against the Macedonian tyrant and usurper. 
The orator warns his countrymen of their danger, arouses 
them from, their inaction, and, by the recital of the military 
success and glory which crowned the Grecian heroes of 
former days, at Marathon, Plataea, Thermopylae, and other 
glorious battle-fields, excites and persuades them to take 
up arms against the invader of Grecian rights and liber- 
ties. 

It has been truly said, that Philip formed the political 
character of Demosthenes. Such orators can be called 
forth, only in the stormy, revolutionary days of republics. 
Demosthenes appeared in the last great contest for ancient 
Grecian liberty. Cicero came forth to sustain the totter- 
ing pillars of the Roman state, and to avert the impending 
blow of conspiracy that was about to fall on the liberties 
of his beloved country; and Patrick Henry was nurtured 
amid the tumultuous scenes of the American Revolution. 

When the sky of liberty grew dark with clouds; when 
5 



34 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the gathering tempest of oppression, seeired about to 
burst over our young republic, and extinguish those fires 
of liberty which had been kindled on every mountain 
and plain, and in every valley from the granite hills of 
New Hampshire to the green savannahs of Georgia, then 
Henry, like Demosthenes and Cicero, poured forth torrents 
of eloquence that swept away every obstacle and rolled 
onward with overwhelming force. 

During fourteen years, the great Athenian orator exerted 
his powerful eloquence in defending his country's rights, 
against the oppressions of a foreign enemy ; but unlike 
Henry, he fell in the glorious cause he was advocating and 
with him expired the liberties of his country. 

If from the orator we turn to the statesman, our admira- 
tion will not in the least be diminished. Not only was 
Demosthenes the most accomplished of orators, but he 
was one of the greatest of statesmen. It is true that he 
had not the power of carrying into effect the mighty 
schemes which his capacious mind had formed; but how 
deeply does he command our respect and admiration by 
the skillful employment of those scanty means which he had. 

The statesmen of antiquity, unlike those of modern 
times, were restricted to very limited means for forming or 
carrying on military enterprises. They had not, at their 
command, the power or the resources of the Pitts, the 
Foxes, the Grenvilles, or the Walpoles of Great Britain. 
And yet Demosthenes, by his political sagacity, was ena- 
bled, with his contracted means, to cope for a long time 
with Philip, and to inspire him with more dread than did 
all the fleets and armies of the Athenians. He maintained 
his position to the last. It has been eloquently said of 
Athen's mighty statesman, that it was his high calling to 
be the pillar of a sinking state. Thirty years he remained 
true to it, and did not yield till he was buried beneath 
Us ruins. 



CHAPTER II. 



CICEEO. 

In Rome, as in Greece, eloquence was a " plant of late 
growth, and of short duration." It was not until the 
transcendent genius of Hortensius and Cicero burst forth 
with astonishing splendor, in the later ages of the com- 
monwealth, that Raman oratory assumed its true charac- 
ter, and was carried to the highest degree of cultivation 
and perfection. The era of Cicero was the golden age of 
Roman eloquence; a period which the student of classical 
literature will ever contemplate with admiration. Then 
were heard the last and highest notes of patriotic eloquence 
in Rome. " It was not until about the time of Cicero, that 
the Latin language had become sufficiently refined, and the 
general learning and taste of the nation sufficiently en- 
lightened to appreciate and encourage the higher efforts 
of oratorical art. With the patronage of fair opportunity, 
and under the combined influence of freedom and taste, 
eloquence reappeared in all her native beauty." 

Among the most distinguished Roman orators, preceding 
or contemporary with Cicero, were Cornelius Cethegus, 
Cato the elder, Scipio Nasica, Mutius Scssvola, Marcus 
Antonius, Lucius Licinius Crassus, Publius Sulpitius, 
Caius A. Cotta, Hortensius, Julius Caesar, Messala, and 
Brutus. Of these, Hortensius deserves particular notice 
here, as he was the rival of Cicero, and next to him, the 
greatest orator of Rome. He was born about the year 115 
b. c, and was eight years older than Cicero. At the age 



36 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of nineteen lie began to distinguish himself by his florid 
eloquence in the Roman forum. He lived in great magni- 
ficence, and died at the age of sixty -three. 

Hortensius appears to have possessed almost all the 
qualities requisite to form an accomplished orator. His 
imagination was fertile and sparkling, his acquaintance 
with literature extensive, and the stream of his eloquence 
copious, rapid and vehement. The powers of his mind 
were extraordinary. " Nature had given him," says Cicero, 
in his Brutus (c. S8), " so happy a memory, that he never 
had need of committing to writing any discourse which he 
had meditated, while, after his opponent had finished 
speaking, he could recall, word by word, not only what 
the other had said, but also the authorities which had been 
cited against himself.* His industry was indefatigable. He 
never let a day pass without speaking in the forum, or 
preparing himself to appear on the morrow; oftentimes 
he did both. He excelled particularly in the art of divid- 
ing his subject, and in then reuniting it in a iuminous 
manner, calling in, at the same time, even some of the ar- 
guments which had been urged against him. His diction 
was noble, elegant, and rich; his voice strong and pleas- 
ing; his gestures carefully studied." 

But the fame of Hortensius was dimmed by the incom- 
parable splendor of Cicero, whom we may, perhaps, regard 
as the most perfect model of eloquence that the world has 
ever seen. To notice some of the leading events of his 
interesting life, and to contemplate the character of his 
oratory, we now turn with delight. 

* As a proof of his astonishing memory, it is recorded by Seneca, that, for 
a trial of his powers of reflection, he remained a whole day at a public auc- 
tion, and when it was concluded, he repeated in order what had been sold, to 
whom, and at what price. His recital was compared with the clerk's account, 
and his memory was found to have served him faithfully in every particular. 
Senec. Praf. Lib. I. Controv. 



CICERO. 37 

Marcus Tullius Cicero was born on the 3d of January, 
107 b. c. His birthplace was Arpinum, in ancient times a 
small town of Latmm, now part of the kingdom of Naples, 
Early in life Cicero gave decided indications that he pos- 
sessed a towering genius and a brilliant intellect; and was 
placed under eminent instructors. One of his earliest 
teachers was the celebrated poet Archias, with whom he 
learned the art of poetry, for which he had a high relish 
Subsequently he was placed under the care of Scaevola, a 
famous lawyer. Under his instruction he soon acquired a 
profound knowledge of the civil law, and the political in- 
stitutions of the Romans. Here he laid the foundation of 
his forensic fame; the luster of which has not been dim- 
med by any succeeding advocate. Cicero was first in- 
structed in the principles of philosophy by Philo the 
Academic. But his attention was soon wholly turned to 
oratory. He early cherished the hope of becoming the 
most distinguished orator of his age. To accomplish this 
object he used every means within his power. With the 
assistance of Molo, the most celebrated teacher of elo- 
quence then in Rome, he applied himself with the utmost 
assiduity to the study of the art, to the practice of daily 
declamation, to the repetition of the finest passages of the 
best poets and orators, and to the exercise of translating 
the speeches of eminent Greek orators into Latin. This 
he found to be a useful exercise. It afforded him an op- 
portunity of enriching his own style with choice expres- 
sions of that most beautiful of all human tongues — the 
Greek. While Cicero -was attending the oratorical lec- 
tures of Molo, his emulation was excited by the fame of 
Hortensius, whose eloquence was then beaming with a 
splendor which had never before been witnessed in Rome 
The praises which were lavished upon Hortensius fired the 
youthful Cicero with the laudable ambition of reaching 
the same exalted position in the oratorical world, which 



38 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

this illustrious orator enjoyed. He continued his unre- 
mitted efforts to become an accomplished orator. In the 
pursuit of this, no time was lost. No day was permitted 
to pass without some exercise in declamation — a practice 
which should be imitated by every young student. Day 
and night Cicero pursued his favorite study of oratory 
with indefatigable ardor. He did not make himself an 
orator without severe, intellectual discipline and study. 
He was a laborious student. No matter how brilliant na- 
tural powers may be, study, hard study is absolutely neces- 
sary to excellence in any art or profession. It was not by 
a neglect of mental culture — not by trusting to his genius 
alone, but by an untiring perseverance, by a cultivation 
of his intellectual and oratorical powers, that Cicero be- 
came the rival of Demosthenes, and the most celebrated 
orator of Rome. No man can be an accomplished orator 
or profound scholar without a severe course of intellectual 
training. The greatest orators and philosophers have been 
remarkable for their intense application to study. This is 
true of Demosthenes, of Cicero, of Edmund Burke, of 
Sir Isaac Newton, of Robert Boyle, and of a host of others, 
eminent in the various walks of scholarship. Even Pat- 
rick Henry was not an exception to this rule. While he 
roamed sportively over the green fields, and along the rip- 
pling streams, he was reading the grand, unfolded volume 
of nature; and while he was conversing with men he was 
studying their character. Thus he knew how to win his 
way to the heart, to touch the tender cords of the soul, 
to convince, to move, to delight, to arouse, to astonish. 
And this is the knowledge and the power which the orator 
turns to the greatest advantage. When he has gained an 
intimate acquaintance with the disposition and workings 
of the human heart, and can move the passions irresisti- 
bly, the loftiest power of eloquence is attained. 

About the age of twenty -six, Cicero presented himself 



CICERO 39 

at the bar, and immediately commenced a successful prac- 
tice. In the following year he undertook his first most 
important case, the defense of S. Roscius, in a criminal 
prosecution. Cicero was triumphant, and by a vivid burst 
of oratory procured the acquittal of his client. In the 
management of this case he displayed the loftiest elo- 
quence, which was received with shouts of applause by 
the audience. This effort firmly established the reputation 
of Cicero as an orator, and placed him in the first class of 
advocates. 

Thus, at the early age of twenty-seven, the genius and 
eloquence of Cicero awakened universal admiration among 
the citizens of Rome. It is somewhat curious to observe 
that Demosthenes and Patrick Henry were of this age 
when they began to achieve their most brilliant oratorical 
triumphs,- and that Daniel Webster had nearly reached 
the same age when he won his unfading laurels in the fa- 
mous Dartmouth College case. 

Shortly after the trial of Ptoscius, Cicero set out upon a 
tour to Greece and Asia Minor, where he spent two years 
in the study of philosophy and oratory, under the ablest 
teachers. At the end of this period he returned to Rome, 
at the age of thirty, with his mind enriched with the 
treasures of Grecian literature, and with his style of elo- 
quence polished and perfected. 

A very interesting account of his oratorical training, 
both previous to, and during his visit to Athens and Asia, 
is given by himself in his valuable treatise entitled " De 
Claris Oratoribus." The following extract will be read 
with interest by the admirers of the orator : 

"The other chief orators of the day," says Cicero, "be- 
ing then in the magistracy, were almost daily heard by me 
in their public discourses. Curio was then tribune of the 
people, but never spoke, having once been deserted by his 
audience in a mass Quintus Metellus Celer, though not 



40 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

an orator, was not wholly unable to speak; Varius, Carbo, 
and Pomponius were eloquent, and they were continually 
upon the rostrum. Caius Julius, also, the curule sedile, 
almost daily made a set speech. My passion for listening 
received its first disappointment when Cotta was banished; 
but in diligent attendance on the other orators, I not only 
devoted a part of each day to reading, writing, and dis- 
cussing; but extended my studies beyond the exercises of 
oratory, to philosophy and the law. In the following year, 
Varius was banished under his own law. In the study of 
the civil law, I employed myself under Scsevola, who, al- 
though he did not formally receive pupils, was willing to 
admit those who desired it, to be present while he gave 
legal opinions "to his clients. The next year, Sylla and 
Pompey were consuls, and I formed an intimate acquaint- 
ance with the whole art of public speaking, in listening 
to the daily harangues of the tribune Sulpicius. At the 
same time, Philo, the head of the academy, having, with 
the rest of the aristocracy of Athens, fed to Rome in the 
Mithridatic war, I gave myself wholly up to him and the 
study of philosophy, not merely from the delight I felt in 
the variety and magnitude of the subject, but because the 
career of judicial eloquence seemed for ever shut up. 
Sulpicius had fallen that year, and in the next, three other 
orators were most cruelly slain; Catulus, Antony, and 
Julius. The same year, I employed myself under the di- 
rection of Molo the Rhodian, a consummate pleader and 
teacher. I mention these things, Brutus, although some- 
what aside from our purpose, that you might, as you de- 
sired, become acquainted with my course, and perceive 
the manner in which I followed in the steps of Hortensius. 
For three years, the city had respite from war, but the 
orators were deceased, retired, or banished; even Crassus 
and the two Lentuli were absent. Hortensius then took 
the lead as counsel; Antistius daily rose in reputation; 



CICERO. 41 

Piso spoke often, Pomponius less frequently, Carbo rarely, 
Philippus once or twice. All this time, 1 was occupied 
day and night, in every kind of study. I studied with the 
stoic Diodotus, who, after having long lived with rne, 
lately died at my house. By him I was trained, among 
other things, in logic, itself a kind of close and com- 
pendious eloquence, without which even you, Brutus, have 
admitted, that the true eloquence, which is but expanded 
logic, can not be acquired. With this teacher, in his nu- 
merous and various branches, I was so assiduous, that I did 
not miss a day in oratorical exercises. I had also a de- 
clamatory discussion (to use the present phrase), with Piso 
often, and with Quintus Pompey, or some one else, every 
day. This was frequently in Latin, but of tener in Greek ; 
both because the Greek language, in itself more adapted 
to ornament, tended to form the habit of an elegant Latin 
manner, and because, unless I used the Greek language, I 
could neither receive instruction nor correction from em- 
inent Greek teachers. Meantime followed the tumults for 
the restoration of the republic ; the cruel deaths of the 
three orators, Scaevola, Carbo, and Antistius; the return 
of Cotta, Curio, Crassus, the Lentuli, and Pompey; the 
establishment of the laws and the tribunals ; in a word, 
the restoration of the Commonwealth. Of the orators, 
however, Pomponius, Censorinus, and Murena, perished. 
I then, for the first time, undertook the pleading both of 
public and private causes; not, as is commonly done, 
learning my profession in the practice of it, but, as far as 
I had been able to effect it, entering the forum with my 
profession learned. At the same time I studied under 
Molo, who had come to Rome, in Sylla's dictatorship, on 
business of the Rhodians. My first public cause, there- 
fore, the defense of Sextus Roscius, was so commended, 
that there was none which I was not thought competent to 
undertake. Many causes were now put into my hands, 



42 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

which I brought into court, not merely diligently, but 
laboriously prepared. 

" And now, since you seem to wish to learn my history 
thoroughly, I will mention some things, which might other- 
wise seem unimportant. At this period, I labored under 
extreme emaciation and weakness of body; my neck was 
long and slender, and my whole frame and constitution 
such as are usually thought to render the violent exercise 
of the lungs fatal. This circumstance was matter of the 
greater anxiety to my friends, because I was in the habit 
of speaking everything on a high key, without variety, 
with the utmost power of voice and exertion of my body. 
When, therefore, my friends and physicians advised me to 
abandon pleading, I determined to encounter any danger, 
rather than give up the renown which I hoped to acquire 
as an orator. Having, however, come to the conclusion, 
that by reducing and managing the voice, and changing 
my mode of speaking, I could escape the impending dan- 
ger, I determined, for the sake of altering my manner, to 
visit Asia. Accordingly, after having been two years in 
the practice of my profession, and acquiring a standing in 
the forum, I left Rome. When I came to Athens, I devoted 
myself six months, under Antiochus, a most noble and 
prudent sage of the old academy, to the study of philoso- 
phy, a study which I had early cultivated, had never lost 
sight of, and now renewed under this admirable teacher. 
At the same time, however, I practiced speaking diligent- 
ly, under Demetrius, the Syrian, an experienced and re- 
spectable teacher of the art. I afterwards made the tour 
of Asia, with orators of the first celebrity, under whom, 
with their full assent, I regularly exercised myself in 
speaking. The chief of these was Menippus of Stratonice, 
in my opinion the most eloquent Asiatic orator of his 
time, and, if to be free from everything offensive or im- 
pertinent be the test of Atticism, not unworthy to be 



CICERO. 43 

reckoned among Attic orators. I was also constantly with 
Dionysius, of Magnesia, JEschylus, of Enidus, and Xeno- 
cles, of Adramyttium; the principal rhetoricians at that 
time in Asia. Not satisfied with these, I repaired to 
Rhodes, and applied myself to Milo, who had instructed 
me at Rome, who was not only a pleader himself, in real 
causes, and an eminent writer, but most discreet in re- 
marking and correcting faults as an instructor. He exerted 
himself, as far as possible, to reduce my manner, redun- 
dant as it was, and overflowing with juvenile licence and 
excess; and sought to bring it within proper limits. After 
spending two years in this way, I returned, not merely 
trained, but altered. The extreme effort of my voice in 
speaking was reduced. My style had become temperate, 
my lungs strong, and my general health tolerable." 

Soon after his return to Rome, Cicero was sent to Sicily, 
as questor. In the faithful and generous discharge of his 
public duties there, he gained the esteem and friendship 
of the Sicilians. Subsequently, at their solicitation, he 
undertook the celebrated prosecution of Verres, late Praetor 
of Sicily, " a criminal," says Dunlop, " infinitely more 
hateful than Catiline or Clodius, and to whom the Roman 
republic, at least, never produced an equal in turpitude 
and crime." The oppression, extortion, rapine and cruelty 
which he exercised, while governing the province of Sicily, 
were most flagrant. On the expiration of his office he was 
prosecuted by the Sicilians for these public outrages. 
Cicero, as has been stated, managed the impeachment, 
while Hortensius appeared for the defense. To Cicero, a 
glorious opportunity was now afforded for the display of 
his eloquence. It was one of the most celebrated prose- 
cutions which ancient history records; and it is hardly 
necessary to say that it called forth, on the part of Cicero, 
a torrent of overwhelming invective and indignant elo- 
quence. 



44 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" In the renowned cause against Verres, there can be no 
doubt that the orator displayed the whole resources of his 
vast talents. Every circumstance concurred to stimulate 
his exertions and excite his eloquence. Is was the first 
"time he had appeared as an accuser in a public trial — his 
clients were the injured people of a mighty province, 
rivaling in importance the imperial state — the inhabit- 
ants of Sicily surrounded the forum, and an audience was 
expected from every quarter of Italy, of all that was 
exalted, intelligent, and refined. But, chiefly, he had a 
subject, which, from the glaring guilt of the accused, and 
the nature of his crimes, was so copious, interesting, and 
various, so abundant in those topics which an orator would 
select to afford full scope for the exercise of his powers, 
that it was hardly possible to labor tamely or listlessly in 
so rich a mine of eloquence. Such a wonderful assem- 
blage of circumstances never yet prepared the course for 
the triumphs of oratory; so great an opportunity for the 
exhibition of forensic art will, in all probability, never 
again occur. Suffice it to say, that the orator surpassed by 
his workmanship the singular beauty of his materials; 
and, instead of being overpowered by their magnitude, 
derived from the vast resources which they supplied the 
merit of an additional excellence, in the skill and discern- 
ment of his choice." 

Of his six orations against Verres, which have come 
down to us, Cicero delivered but one. In the commence- 
ment of the trial, Verres was overwhelmed by the evidence 
of guilt, which was produced against him, and, without 
awaiting his sentence, went into voluntary exile. The 
other five speeches were intended to be delivered, if Verres 
should make a regular defense. These orations have 
always been regarded as among the most splendid monu- 
ments of their author's genius. They contain many passa- 
ges of exquisite beauty — admirably conceited and exe- 



CICERO. 45 

cuted. The most touching and eloquent is that in which 
we have a description of the crucifixion of Publius Ga- 
vius Cosanus, an innocent Roman citizen. Its conception, 
is grand; its arrangement, beautiful; its pathos, deep and 
thrilling. It is not surpassed by anything of the kind in 
the history of ancient eloquence. Before introducing 
this passage which has so long been admired, we subjoin 
a judicious reflection of a learned critic. Says Mr. Dun- 
lop in his History of Roman Literature: "The punish- 
ments of death and torture usually reserved for slaves, 
but inflicted by Verres on freemen of Rome, formed the 
climax of his atrocities, which are detailed in oratorical 
progression. After the vivid description of his former 
crimes, one scarcely expects that new terms of indignation 
will be found; but the expressions of the orator become 
more glowing, in proportion as Verres grows more daring 
in his guilt. The sacred character borne over all the 
world by a Roman citizen, must be fully remembered, in 
order to read with due feeling the description of the 
punishment of Gavius, who was scourged, and then nailed 
to a cross, which, by a refinement in cruelty, was erected 
on the shore, and facing Italy, that he might suffer death 
with his view directed towards home and a land of liberty. 
The whole is poured forth in a torrent of the most rapid 
and fervid composition; and had it actually flowed from 
the lips of the speaker, we can not doubt the prodigious 
effect it would have had on a Roman audience and on 
Roman judges." 

Here we have the orator's touching description of the 
punishment and execution of Gavius:* " For why should 
I speak," said Cicero, " of Publius Gavius, a citizen of the 
municipality of Cosa, judges? or with what vigor of 
language, with what gravity of expression, with what 

* The excellent, literal translation o Z. D. Yonge, B. A., is adopted. — 
Bonn's Classical Library. 



4 6 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

grief of mind shall I mention him? But, indeed, that in- 
dignation fails me. I must take more care than usual that 
what 1 am going to say be worthy of my subject — worthy 
of the indignation which I feel. For the charge is of 
such a nature, that when I was first informed of it I 
thought I should not avail myself of it. For although I 
knew that it was entirely true, still I thought that it would 
not appear credible. Being compelled by the tears of all 
the Roman citizens who are living as traders in Sicily, 
being influenced by the testimonies of the men of Valen- 
tia, most honorable men, and by those of all the Rhegians, 
and of many Roman knights who happened at that time 
to be at Messana, I produced at the previous pleading only 
just that amount of evidence which might prevent the 
matter from appearing doubtful to any one. What shall I 
do now? When I have been speaking for so many hours 
of one class of offences, and of that man's nefarious 
cruelty, — when I have now expended nearly all my treas- 
ures of words of such a sort as are worthy of that man's 
wickedness on other matters, and have omitted to take 
precautions to keep your attention on the stretch by diver- 
sifying my accusations, how am I to deal with an affair of 
the importance that this is? There is, I think, but one 
method, but one line open to me. I will place the matter 
plainly before you, which is of itself of such importance 
that there is no need of my eloquence — and eloquence, 
indeed, I have none, but there is no need of any one's 
eloquence to excite your feelings, This Gavius whom I 
am speaking of, a citizen of Cosa, when he (among that 
vast number of Roman citizens who had been treated in 
the same way) had been thrown by Verres into prison, and 
somehow or other had escaped secretly out of the stone- 
quarries, and had come to Messana, being now almost 
within sight of Italy and of the walls of Rhegium, and 
being revived, after that fear of death and that darkness, 



CICERO. 47 

by tlie light, as it were, of liberty and c the fragrance of 
the laws, began to talk at Messana, and to complain that 
he, a Roman citizen, had been thrown into prison. He 
said that he was now going straight to Rome, and that he 
would meet Verres on his arrival there." 

" The miserable man was not aware that it made no 
difference whether he said this °t Messana, or before the 
man's face in his own prsetori&A palace. For, as I have 
shown you before, that man had selected this city as the 
assistant in his crimes, the receiver of his thefts, the 
partner in all his wickedness. Accordingly, Gavius is at 
once brought before the Mamertine- magistrates 5 and, as it 
happened, Verres came ci> that very day to Messana. 
The lnacte? is brought before him. He is told that the 
man was a Roman citizen, who was complaining that at 
Syracuse he had been confined in the stone-quarries, and 
w 7 ho, when he was actually embarking on board ship, and 
uttering violent threats against Verres, had been brought 
back by them, and reserved in order that he himself might 
decide what should be done with him. He thanks the 
men and praises their good-will and diligence in his be- 
half. He himself, inflamed with wickedness and frenzy, 
comes into the forum. His eyes glared; cruelty was visible 
in his whole countenance. All men waited to see what 
steps he w T as going to take, — what he was going to do ; 
when all of a sudden he orders the man to be seized, and 
to be stripped and bound in the middle of the forum, and 
the rods to be got ready. The miserable man cried out 
that he was a Roman citizen, a citizen, also, of the muni- 
cipal town of Cosa, — that he had served with Lucius Pre- 
tius, a most illustrious Roman knight, who was living as a 
trader at Panormus, and from whom Verres might know 
that he was speaking the truth. Then Verres says that he 
has ascertained that he had been sent into Sicily by the 
leaders of the runaway slaves, in order to act as a spy; a 



48 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

matter as to which there was no witness, no trace, nor even 
the slightest suspicion in the mind of any one. Then he 
orders the man to be most violently scourged on all sides. 
In the middle of the forum of Messana a Roman citizen, O 
judges, was beaten with rods; while in the mean time no 
groan was heard, no other expression ~vas heard from ft at 
wretched man, amid all his pain, ant» uetween the sound 
of the blows, except these words, * I am a citizen ui Rome.' 
He fancied that by this onfi statement of his citizenship he 
could ward off all blows, and remove all torture from his 
person. He not only did not succeed in averting bv bis 
entreaties the violence of the rods, but as he kept on re- 
peating his entreaties and the assertion of his citizenship, 
a cross — a cross, I say — was got ready for that miserable 
man, who had never witnessed such a stretch of power.' 5 

" the sweet name of liberty ! the admirable privil- 
eges of our citizenship ! Porcian law ! Sempronian 
laws! power of the tribunes, bitterly regretted by, and 
at last restored to the Roman people! Have all our rights 
fallen so far, that in a province of the Roman people, — in a 
town of our confederate allies, — a Roman citizen should 
be bound in the forum, and beaten with rods by a man 
who only had the fasces and the axes through the kindness 
of the Roman people? What shall I say? When fire, and 
red-hot plates, and other instruments of torture were em- 
ployed? If the bitter entreaties and the miserable cries 
of that man had no power to restrain you, were you not 
moved even by the weeping and loud groans of the Roman 
citizens who were present at that time? Did you dare to 
drag any one to the cross who said that he was a Roman 
citizen?" 

" If you, O Verres ! being taken among the Persians or 
in the remotest parts of India, were being led to execution, 
what else would you cry out but that you were a Roman 
citizen? And if that name of your city, honored and re- 



CICERO. 49 

nowned as it is among all men, would have availed you, 
a stranger among strangers, among barbarians, among men 
placed in the most remote and distant corners of the 
earth, ought not he, whoever he was, whom you were hur- 
rying to the cross, who was a stranger to you, to have been 
able, when he said that he was a Roman citizen, to obtain 
from you, the praetor, if not an escape, at least a respite 
from death by his mention of and claims to citizenship v ' 

" Men of no importance, born in an obscure rank, go to 
sea; they go to places which they have never seen before; 
where they can neither be known to the men among whom 
they have arrived, nor always find people to vouch for 
them. But still, owing to this confidence in the mere fact 
of their citizenship, they think that they shall be safe, not 
only among our own magistrates, who are restrained by 
fear of the laws and of public opinion, nor among our 
fellow-citizens only, who are united with them by com- 
munity of language, of rights, and of many other things; 
but wherever they come they think that this will be a pro- 
tection to them. Take away this hope, take away this 
protection from Roman citizens, establish the fact that 
there is no assistance to be found in the words ' I am a 
Roman citizen;" that a praetor, or any other officer, may 
with impunity order any punishment he pleases to be in- 
flicted on a man who says that he is a Roman citizen, 
though no one knows that it is not true; and at one blow, 
by admitting that defense, you cut off from the Roman 
citizens all the provinces, and the kingdoms, all free cities, 
and indeed the whole world, which has hitherto been open 
most especially to our countrymen." 

" But why need I say more about Gavius? as if you 
were hostile to Gavius, and not rather an enemy to the 
name and class of citizens, and to all their rights. You 
were not, I say, an enemy to the individual, but to the 
common cause of liberty. For what was our object in 



5 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ordering the Mamertines, when, according to their regular 
custom and usage, they had erected the cross behind the 
city in the Pompeian road, to place it where it looked 
towards the strait; and in adding, what you can by no 
means deny, what you said openly in the hearing of every 
one, that you chose that place in order that the man who 
said that he was a Roman citizen, might be able from his 
cross to behold Italy and to look towards his own home'? 
And accordingly, judges, that cross, for the first time 
since the foundation of Messana, was erected in that place. 
A spot commanding a view of Italy was picked out by 
that man, for the express purpose that the wretched man 
w r ho w T as dying in agony and torture might see that the 
rights of liberty and of slavery w r ere only separated by a 
very narrow strait, and that Italy might behold her son 
murdered by the most miserable and most painful punish- 
ment appropriate to slaves alone." 

" It is a crime to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him 
is a wickedness; to put him to death is almost parricide. 
What shall I say of crucifying him? So guilty an action 
can not by any possibility be adequately expressed by any 
name bad enough for it. Yet with all this that man was 
not content. * Let him behold his country,' said he; c let 
him die within sight of laws and liberty.' It was not 
Gavius, it was not one individual, I know not whom, — it 
was not one Roman citizen, — it w T as the common cause of 
freedom and citizenship that you exposed to that torture 
and nailed on that cross. But now consider the audacity 
of the man. Do not you think that he was indignant 
that he could not erect that cross for Roman citizens in 
the forum, in the comitium, in the very rostra? For the 
place in his province which was the most like those 
places in celebrity, and the nearest to them in point of 
distance, he did select. He chose that monument of his 
wickedness and andacity to be in the sight of Italy, in the 



CICERO. 51 

very vestibule of Sicily, within sight of all passers-by as 
they sailed to and fro." 

But Cicero acquired his greatest renown as an orator 
and statesman by detecting and crushing the conspiracy 
of Catiline * This was the most glorious act of his poli- 
tical career; and his orations against Catiline are the most 
splendid monuments of his eloquence. As such they have 
ever been regarded. They are the most precious remains 
of ancient eloquence, and are among the first models of 
style that adorn ancient literature. 

The history of the Catilinarian conspiracy has been ably 
written by Sallust, and it is familiar to every classical 
student. We need not, therefore, wait to repeat the whole 
account of this plot, which, had it been executed, would 
have involved the city of Rome in conflagration, and the 
whole republic in ruin. It was to have been carried into 
effect in this manner. Catiline was to leave Rome and 
join his forces, assembled in different parts of Italy, while 
his accomplices in the city were to burn the Capitol, and 
massacre the senators and citizens. Cicero, by his vigi- 
lance, having discovered their infernal design, summoned 
the senate to meet in the temple of Jupiter ,f in the Capitol, 
that he might lay before it the whole circumstance of the 
deep-laid plot. The presence of Catiline, who had the 
boldness to appear in the midst of the assembly, so inflamed 
the orator that he immediately rose and broke out in that 
severe, overwhelming invective which produced such an 
electric effect when delivered, and which can not, at this 
day, be read without emotion. It was in a thundering tone 
of exasperated eloquence that Cicero exclaimed, as he fixed 
his eye upon the conspirator, " When, Catiline, do you 

* Cicero was chosen Consul in his forty-fourth year, B. C. 63. Catiline's 
conspiracy was detected and crushed in the same year. 

f This temple was only used for this purpose on occasions of great danger. 



52 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

mean to cease abusing our patience ? How long is that 
madness of yours still to mock us ? When is there to be 
an end of that unbridled audacity of yours, swaggering 
about as it does now 1 Do not the mighty guards placed 
^on the Palatine Hill — do not the watches posted through- 
out the city — does not the alarm of the people, and the 
union of all good men — does not the precaution taken of 
assembling the senate in this most defensible place — do 
not the looks and countenances of this venerable body 
here present, have any effect upon you 1 Do you not feel 
that your plans are detected ? Do you not see that your 
conspiracy is already arrested and rendered powerless by 
the knowledge which every one here possesses of it 1 
What is there that you did last night, what the night 
before — where is it that you were — who was there that 
you summoned to meet you — -what design was there which 
was adopted by you, with which you think that any one 
of us is unacquainted ? 

" Shame on the age and on its principles ! The senate 
is aware of these things; the consul sees them; and yet 
this man lives. Lives ! aye, he comes even into the sen- 
ate. He takes a part in the public deliberations; he is 
watching and marking down and checking off for slaughter 
every individual among us. And we, gallent men that we 
are, think that we are doing our duty to the republic if 
we keep out of the way of his frenzied attacks. 

(i You ought, Catiline, long ago to have been led to 
execution by command of the consul. That destruction 
which you have been long plotting against us ought to 
have already fallen on your own head. 

" I wish, O conscript fathers, to be merciful; I wish not 
to appear negligent amid such danger to the state; but I 
do now accuse myself of remissness and culpable inactivity. 
A camp is pitched in Italy, at the entrance of Etruria, in 
hostility to the republic; the number of the enemy 



CICERO. 53 

increases every day; and yet the general of that camp, the 
leader of those enemies, we see within the walls — aye, 
and even in the senate — planning every day some internal 
injury to the republic. If, Catiline, I should now order 
you to be arrested, to be put to death, I should, I suppose, 
have to fear lest all good men should say that I had acted 
tardily, rather than that any one should affirm that I acted 
cruelly. But yet this, which ought to have been done long 
since, I have good reason for not doing as yet; I will put 
you to death, then, when there shall be not one person 
possible to be found so wicked, so abandoned, so like your- 
self, as not to allow that it has been rightly done. As long 
as one person exists who can dare to defend you, you shall 
live; but you shall live as you do now, surrounded by my 
many and trusty guards, so that you shall not be able to 
stir one finger against the republic: many eyes and ears 
shall still observe and watch you, as they have hitherto 
done, though you shall not perceive them. 

" As, then, this is the case, Catiline, continue as you 
have begun. Leave the city at least: the gates are open; 
depart. That Manlian camp of yours has been waiting 
too long for you as its general. And lead forth with you 
all your friends, or at least as many as you can; purge the 
city of your presence; you will deliver me from a great 
fear, when there is a wall between me and you. Among 
us you can dwell no longer. — I will not bear it, I will not 
permit it, I will not tolerate it. 

" For what is there, O Catiline, that can now afford you 
any pleasure in this city ? for there is no one in it, except 
that band of profligate conspirators of yours, who does not 
fear you — no one who does not hate you. What brand 
of domestic baseness is not stamped upon your life? What 
disgraceful circumstance is wanting to your infamy in your 
private affairs'? From what licentiousness have your eyes, 
from what atrocity have your hands, from what iniquity 



54 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

has your whole body ever abstained ? Is there one youth 
when you have once entangled him in the temptations of 
your corruption, to whom you have not held out a sword 
for audacious crime, or a torch for licentious wickedness'? 

" Begone from the city, O Catiline, deliver the republic 
from fear; depart into banishment, if that is the word you 
are waiting for. What now, O Catiline? Do you not 
perceive, do you not see the silence of these men; they 
permit it, they say nothing; why wait you for the authority 
of their words when you see their wishes in their silence 1 

" Wherefore, conscript fathers, let the worthless be- 
gone, — let them separate themselves from the good, — let 
them collect in one place, — let them, as I have often said 
before, be separated from us by a wall; let them cease to 
plot against the consul in his own house, — to surround 
the tribunal of the city praetor, — to besiege the senate- 
house with swords, — to prepare brands and torches to 
burn the city; let it, in short, be written on the brow of 
every citizen, what are his sentiments about the republic. 
I promise you this, conscript fathers, that there shall be 
so much diligence in us the consuls, so much authority in 
you, so much virtue in the Roman knights, so much una- 
nimity in all good men, that you shall see everything made 
plain and manifest by the departure of Catiline, — every- 
thing checked and punished."* 

* Catiline did not venture to make any reply to this speech, but he begged 
the senate not to be too hasty in believing everything which was said to his 
prejudice by one who had always been his enemy, as Cicero had; and alleged 
his high birth, and the stake which he had in the prosperity of the common- 
wealth, as arguments to make it appear improbable that he should seek to 
injure it; and called Cicero a stranger, and a new inhabitant of Rome. But 
the senate interrupted him with a general outcry, calling him traitor and par- 
ricide. Upon which, being rendered furious and desperate, he declared aloud 
what he had before said to Cato, that since he was circumvented and driven 
headlong by his enemies, he would quench the flame which his enemies were 
kindlin°- around him in the common ruin. And so he rushed out of the temple. 



CICERO. 55 

u In point of effect, this oration must have been peifectly 
electric. The disclosure to the criminal himself of his 
most secret purposes — their flagitious nature, threatening 
the life of every one present — the whole course of his 
villainies and treasons, blazoned forth with the fire of 
increased eloquence — and the adjuration to him, by flying 
from Rome, to free his country from such a pestilence, 
were all wonderfully calculated to excite astonishment, 
admiration and horror." 

This speech produced a powerful effect. It was the 
means of driving Catiline from Rome, and of saving the 
commonwealth from utter ruin. After the conspirator 
had fled from the city, Cicero called the people together 
into the forum, and delivered his second Catilinarian ora- 
tion, which commences as follows : 

(i At length, Romans, we have dismissed from the city, 
or driven out, or, when he was departing of his own 
accord, we have pursued with words, Lucius Catiline, mad 
with audacity, breathing wickedness, impiously planning 
mischief to his country, threatening fire and sword to you 
and to this city. He is gone, he has departed, he has dis- 
appeared, he has rushed out. No injury will now be pre- 
pared against these walls within the walls themselves by 
that monster and prodigy of wickedness. And we have, 
without controversy, defeated him, the sole general of this 
domestic war. For now that dagger will no longer hover 
about our sides; we shall not be afraid in the campus, in 
the forum, in the senate-house, — ay, and within our own 
private walls. He was moved from his place when he was 
driven from the city. Now we shall openly carry on a 
regular war with an enemy without hindrance. Beyond 
all question we ruin the man; we have defeated him 
splendidly when we have driven him from secret treachery 
into open warfare. But that he has not taken with him 
Ms sword red with blood as he intended, — that he has 



56 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

left us alive, — that we wrested the weapon from his 
hands, — that he has left the citizens safe and the city 
standing, what great and overwhelming grief must you 
think that this is to him ! Now he lies prostrate, Ro- 
mans, and feels himself stricken down and abject, and often 
casts back his eyes towards this city, which he mourns 
over as snatched from his jaws, but which seems to me to 
rejoice at having vomited forth such a pest, and cast it out 
of doors." 

It is well known that this conspiracy was finally sup- 
pressed by the execution of five of the principal conspira- 
tors, and by the fall of Catiline himself in battle. 

For his effective and patriotic services on this occasion, 
Cicero received the thanks of the senate, and was univer- 
sally hailed as the father and deliverer of his country. 

Shortly after the suppression of Catiline's conspiracy, 
Cicero is supposed to have delivered that beautiful ora- 
tion in defense of the poet Archias, his early preceptor, 
whose title to the rights and privileges of a Roman citizen 
was judicially contested by one Cratius, a person of obscure 
descent. Cicero gained the case. His speech on this 
occasion will be admired as long as the art of poetry is 
cultivated. Mr. Dunlop observes that, " This is one of the 
orations of Cicero on which he has succeeded in bestowing 
the finest polish, and it is perhaps the most pleasing of all 
his harangues." It contains a beautiful eulogium on 
poetry; and is interspersed throughout with eloquent 
maxims and sentences which have been quoted with admi- 
ration in all ages. At the time of the delivery of this 
speech, Cicero was about forty-five years of age. Eight 
years afterwards he pronounced the oration for Marcus 
Caelius.* This is a fine production, and has been warmly 

* Cselius was a young Roman of considerable talents and acquirements, but 
of dissolute character, who had been entrusted to the care of Cicero on his 
frrst introduction to the forum. Having imprudently engaged in an intrigue 



CICERO. 57 

admired by the greatest statesmen. It was a particular 
favorite with, the celebrated Charles James Fox, who says, 
in a letter to that eminent scholar and critic, Gilbert 
Wakefield, " I know no speech of Cicero more full of 
beautiful passages than this is, nor where he is more in 
his "element."* " Middletonf has pronounced this to be the 
most entertaining of the orations which Cicero has left 
us, from the vivacity of wit and humor with which he 
treats the gallantries of Clodia, her commerce with Ca^lius, 
and in general the gaities and licentiousness of youth." 

After this, Cicero was driven into exile by the intrigues 
of the infamous Clodius; but at the end of ten months, he 
was unanimously recalled by the senate and people, and 
was received with the greatest demonstrations of joy as he 
touched the shores of his native country. 

The return of Cicero from banishment was similar to 
that of Demosthenes, in point of universal acclamation. 
In his oration against L. C. Piso, Cicero has himself given 
us a vivid picture of the joyful scene of his return. In 
comparing his own return with that of Piso, he says: 
" Mine was such, that the whole way from Brundusium to 
Rome I was beholding one unbroken line of the inhabit- 
ants of all Italy. For there was no district, nor municipal 
town, nor prefecture, nor colony, from which a deputation 
was not sent by the public authority to congratulate me. 
Why should I speak of my arrival in the different towns? 
why of the crowds of men who thronged out to meet me? 

with Clodia, the well-known sister of Clodius. and having afterward deserted 
her, she accused him of an attempt to poison her, and of having borrowed 
money from her in order to procure the assassination of Dio, the Alexandrian 
embassador. He was defended by Cicero in a speech still extant, and obtained 
an acquittal. 

* Correspondence of Wakefield and Fox, p. 50. 

t Life of M. T. Cicero, vol. 1, p. 457. This is the best and most complete 
biography of the immortal orator of Rome. 

8 



58 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

why of the way in which the fathers of families with their 
wives and children gathered together to greet me? wliy of 
those days which were celebrated by every one on my arri- 
val and return, as if they had been solemn festival days 
of the immortal gods? That one day was to me like an 
immortality, on which I returned to my country, and saw 
the senate which had come forth to meet me, and the 
whole Roman people; while Rome itself, torn, if I may so 
say, from its foundations, seemed to come forward to em- 
brace her savior. Rome, which received me in such a 
manner that not only all men and all women of all classes, 
and ages, and orders of society, of every fortune and every 
rank, but that even the walls and houses of the city and 
temples appeared to be exulting." 

The next day after Cicero's return he delivered a speech 
in the senate, in which he said: "Wherefore, since your 
authority has summoned me, — since the Roman people 
has recalled me, — since the republic has begged me to 
return, — since almost all Italy has brought me back in 
triumph on its shoulders, I will take care, conscript 
fathers, now that those things have been restored to me, 
the restoration of which did not depend on myself, not to 
appear wanting in those qualities with which I can pro- 
vide myself; I will take care, now that I have recovered 
those things which I had lost, never to lose my virtue and 
loyal attachment to you." 

The next great forensic effort of Cicero was in behalf 
of Milo, who was brought to trial for the murder of Clo- 
dius. The orator has left a brilliant speech in his defense. 
This oration was regarded both by Cicero himself and by 
his contemporaries, as the finest effort of his genius. It is 
enlivened throughout by sallies of wit, sudden bursts of 
eloquence, deep and thrilling pathos. The whole speech 
is admirably constructed, and is a fine specimen of an 
elegant composition. 



CICERO. 59 

The last great orations of Cicero were pronounce! 
against Marc Antony, who had taken the place of Julius 

^ Caesar on his assassination, and who was looked upon by 
the great patriotic orator of Rome as a dangerous enemy 
to the liberties of his beloved country. These orations are 
known by the name of Philippics. From their resemblance 
to the invectives of Demosthenes against Philip of Mace- 
don, they received this appellation.* These fourteen 
speeches are lasting monuments of their author's genius, 
patriotism, and eloquence. 

" The Philippics against Antony, like those of Demos- 
thenes, derive their chief beauty from the noble expression 
of just indignation, which indeed composes many of the 
most splendid and admired passages of ancient eloquence. 
They were all pronounced during the period which elapsed 
between the assassination of Caesar, and the defeat of 
Antony at Modena." 

Our limits do not permit us to quote the most brilliant 
and highly wrought passages in which these orations 
abound. But we can not pass over the peroration of the 
second Philippic, which contains that bold exclamation 
against Antony: 

" Consider, I beg you, Marcus Antonius, do some time 
or other consider the republic; think of the family of 
which you are born, not of the men with whom you are 
living. Be reconciled to the republic. However, do you 
decide on your conduct. As to mine, I myself will declare 
what that shall be. I defended the republic as a young man, 
I will not abandon it now that 1 am old. I scorned the sword 
of Catiline, I will not quail before yours. No, I will rather 
cheerfully expose my own person, if the liberty of the 
city can be restored by my death." 



* This name was early given to them. Juvenal, who wrote within a hun- 
dred years of Cicero's time calls them " divina Philippica." 



CO ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" May the indignation of the Roman people at last bring 
forth what it has been so long laboring with. In truth, if 
twenty years ago in this very temple I asserted that death 
could not come prematurely upon a man of consular rank, 
with how much more truth must I now say the same of an 
old man? To me, indeed, conscript fathers, death is 
now even desirable, after all the honors which I have 
gained, and the deeds which I have done. I only pray for 
these two things: one, that dying I may leave the Roman 
people free. No greater boon than this can be granted me 
by the immortal gods. The other, that every one may 
meet with a fate suitable to his deserts and conduct towards 
the republic." 

The peroration of the sixth Philippic, addressed to the 
people, in which the orator shows the impossibility of re- 
ducing Roman citizens to slavery, also deserves our 
attention: 

" It is impossible," exclaimed Cicero, " for the Roman 
people to be slaves ; that people whom the immortal gods 
have ordained should rule over all nations. Matters are 
now come to a crisis. We are fighting for our freedom. 
Either you must conquer, Romans, which indeed you 
will do if you continue to act with such piety and such 
unanimity, or you must do anything rather than become 
slaves. Other nations can endure slavery. Liberty is the 
inalienable possession of the Roman people." 

But it may truly be said that these eloquent speeches of 
Cicero were the last warning notes of freedom, which the 
Roman people ever heard. Their fetters were now already 
forged, and their liberty was at an end. The third trium- 
virate between Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, had been 
formed, and these ambitious men were hailing with joy 
the downfall of ancient freedom. The hour of proscrip- 
tion had now arrived, and Cicero was among the first 
to fall He was included in the proscription of Antony, 



CICERO. 61 

whose indignation he had excited, and was slain b> a 
party of soldiers, headed by one PoL:pilius, wiiom he had 
formerly successfully defended in a criminal prosecution. 
His head and hands were severed from his body, and, by 
order of the triumvir, publicly exhibited on the rostrum* 
at Rome. 

Thus died Cicero in the sixty-fourth year of his age* 
b. c. 43. 

The death of Cicero was similar to that of Demosthenes. 
Both these great statesmen perished in the cause of free- 
dom, and w r ith them expired the liberties of their respect- 
ive countries. But what noble examples have they left 
behind them for the imitation of patriotic orators and 
statesmen in all ages ! And how often have their tongues 
of fire, and their voices of thunder nerved the arm of the 
freeborn patriot in battling for the cause of liberty! Who 
can tell, for instance, how much the first orators of free- 
dom in our own country were indebted to the eloquence 
of these patriotic statesmen for the erection of that temple 
of liberty which is the glory of our beloved land? It was 
such eloquence that burned in the heart, flashed from the 
eye, and burst from the lips of Warren, Henry, Otis, 
Quincy, Adams, and other kindred spirits, in our revolu- 
tionary struggle; and, amid the gloom of that fearful 
night, pointed a suffering, desponding country to a bright 
and happy morn. Demosthenes and Cicero helped to 
kindle and keep alive the flame of liberty which has been 
fed by every lover of his country; of a republican gov- 
ernment, and of free institutions. Long may these fires 
continue to burn with undimmed splendor, blazing ven- 

* The rostrum was a scaffold, or elevated place in the forum, from which 
the orators used to address the Roman people. It received this name by being 
adorned with the beaks of the ships captured from the Antiates. Here the 
patriotic eloquence of Cicero had often dilated upon the glory of Rome, and 
burned against the enemies of his country, and of freedom. ■ 



62 ORATOBS AND STATESMEN. 

geance and destruction on every system of oppression, 
and blasting to cinders " every fetter and every tyrant's 
accursed throne." We come now to consider the character 
of Cicero as an orator. 

Quintilian has admirably said of him, that his name " is 
only another for eloquence itself, and that he united in 
his manner the vehemence of Demosthenes, the copious- 
ness of Plato, and the sweetness of Isocrates." It is impos- 
sible to form a proper conception of the power of that 
graceful, winning and impassioned eloquence of which 
this prince of Roman orators was a perfect master. The 
most glowing verbal description can but imperfectly paint 
the charms of Ciceronian eloquence. Its greatest force 
lay in the living voice — the vehement gesture — the ani- 
mated and expressive countenance — the beaming eye — 
the impassioned flow of words — the varying tone, now 
low and soft as music, and now swelling into bursts of 
thunder — these were some of the grand characteristics 
of that matchless oratory which so often delighted and 
thrilled the heart of a Roman audience. " But we can not 
transfer to the written or printed page the tone, look and 
manner, the vivida vis, the natural and overwhelming 
energy, the pathos and power of tone, which thrill the 
hearer as with the shocks of a spiritual electricity." In 
order then, properly to appreciate the oratorical power of 
Cicero, we should have witnessed the display of his glo- 
rious eloquence, we 

" Should have seen him in the Campus Martius, — 
In the tribunal, — shaking all the tribes 
With mighty speech. His words seemed oracles, 
That pierced their bosoms: and each man would turn, 
And gaze in wonder on his neighbor's face, 
That with the like dumb wonder answer'd him: 
Then some would weep, some shout, some, deeper touch'd, 
Keep down the cry with motions of their hands, 
In fear but to have lost a syllable." 



CICERO. fi3 

We should have seen him when he boldly faced the 
enemies of his country; when he raised his voice in tones 
of thunder against the audacious Catiline — when he broke 
out in that scathing, terrible invective, " Quosque tan- 
dem abutere Catilina, patientia nostra? Quamdiu etiam 
furor iste tuus nos eludet? Quern ad finem sese effrenata 
jactabit audacia?" or when he hurled his daring exclama- 
tions against Marc Antony We should then have seen 
the most powerful exhibition of indignant, denunciatory 
eloquence that has, perhaps, ever terrified the enemies of 
liberty. We should then have perceived how much true 
eloquence is indebted for its effectiveness, to the tone, the 
look, the gesture, the whole manner of the orator. 

In Cicero were combined all the essential qualities of an 
accomplished orator. He was endowed with an intellect 
of the highest order. He possessed a warm, rich, brilliant 
imagination — abundance of wit — strong argumentative 
powers — a fine, intense sensibility — glowing zeal and 
lofty patriotism — a memory ready and retentive — a mel- 
lifluous, sonorous voice, well adapted to express the vari- 
ous passions of the human soul; and a delivery graceful, 
impressive and vehement. 

We may here observe more particularly that Cicero, 
like Demosthenes, insisted strongly on the importance of 
proper, graceful, vehement gestures in public speaking 
All the great orators of antiquity paid the closest attention 
to the manner in public address, and far excelled most 
modern public speakers in the vehemence of their gestures 
and action.* 

\ 

* "I observed before, that the Greeks and Romans aspired to a more sublime 
species of eloquence, than is aimed at by the moderns. Theirs was of the 
vehement and passionate kind, by which they endeavored to inflame the 
minds of their hearers, aud hurry their imagination away: and, suitable to 
this vehemence of thought, was their vehemence of gesture and action; the 
' supplosio pedis, 1 the ' percussio frontis et lemons,' were, as we learn from 



64 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

We are convinced that most orators of the present age 
are not sufficiently impressed with the importance of aim- 
ing at that forcible action, that impassioned delivery which 
is the crowning glory of oratorical art. Cicero has forcibly 
remarked that " the hands are the common language of 
mankind;' 5 and another distinguished Roman orator was 
accustomed to declare that " he was never fit to talk, till 
he had warmed his arm." So important is a graceful 
manner in public address, that Quintilian, the prince of 
ancient rhetoricians laid it down as a primary maxim, 
that "it is this alone that governs in speaking; without 
which the best orator is of no value, and is often defeated 
by one, in other respects, much his inferior." " Utterance 
is not confined to words. Our souls speak as significantly 
by looks, tones, or gestures, the subtile vehicles of our 
more delicate emotions, as by set words and phrases." 
How true is it that — 

u Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant 
More learned than the ears." 

In his writings, Cicero has mentioned some of the quali- 
ties which a perfect orator must possess. His views on 
the subject of oratory are very interesting; and may be 
said to contain a fine description of his own wonderful 
powers. We select a few of his thoughts here: 

In the first place, Cicero, in his treatise, entitled The 
Orator, addressed to M. Brutus, dwells forcibly on the 
importance of action and elocution in declamation. " For," 

Cicero's writings, usual gestures among them at the bar ; though now they 
would he reckoned extravagant any where, except upon the stage. Modern 
eloquence is much more cool and temperate ; and in Great Britain especially, 
has confined itself almost wholly to the argumentative and rational. It is 
much of that species which the ancient critics called the ' Tenuis,' or ' Sub- 
tilis;' which aims at convincing and instructing, rather than affecting the 
passions, and assumes a tone not much higher than common argument and 
discourse. 1 ' — Dr. Blair. 



CICERO. 65 

says lib, " action is a sort of eloquence of the body, con- 
sisting as it does of voice and motion. Now there are as 
many changes of voice as there are of minds, which are 
above all things influenced by the voice. Therefore, that 
perfect orator which our oration has just been describing, 
will employ a certain tone of voice regulated by the way 
in which he wishes to appear affected himself, and by the 
manner also in which he desires the mind of his hearer 
to be influenced. And concerning this I would say more 
if this was the proper time for laying down rules concern- 
ing it, or if this was what you were inquiring about. I 
would speak also of gesture, with which expression of 
countenance is combined. And it is hardly possible to 
express of what importance these things are, and what 
use the orator makes of them. For even people without 
speaking, by the mere dignity of their action, have often 
produced all the effect of eloquence; and many really 
eloquent men, by their ungainly delivery have been thought 
ineloquent. So that it was not without reason that De- 
mosthenes attributed the first, and second, and third rank 
to action. For if eloquence without action is nothing, but 
action without eloquence is of such great power, then cer- 
tainly it is the most important part of speaking." 

" He, then, who aims at the highest rank in eloquence, 
will endeavor with his voice on the stretch to speak ener- 
getically; with a low voice, gently; with a sustained voice, 
gravely; and with a modulated voice, in a manner calcu- 
lated to excite compassion." 

"For the nature of the voice is something marvelous; 
for all its great power is derived from three sounds only, 
the grave sound, the sharp sound, and the moderate sound; 
and from these comes all that sweet variety which is 
brought to perfection in songs." 

"A good voice also is a thing to be desired; for it 

is not naturally implanted in us, but practice and use 
9 



C6 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

give it t? us. Therefore, the consummate orator will 
vary and change his voice; and sometimes straining it, 
sometimes lowering it, he will go through every degree of 
tone." 

" And he will use action in such a way that there shall 
be nothing superfluous in his gestures. His attitude will 
be erect and lofty; the motion of the feet rare, and very 
moderate; he will only move across the tribune in a very 
moderate manner, and even then rarely; there will be no 
bending of the neck, no clenching of the fingers, no rise 
or fall of the fingers in regular time; he will rather sway 
his whole body gently, and employ a manly inclination of 
his side, throwing out his arm in the energetic parts of 
his speech, and drawing it back in moderate ones. As to 
his countenance, which is of the greatest influence possible 
next to the voice, what dignity and what beauty will be 
derived from its expression ! And when you have accom- 
plished this, then the eyes too must be kept under strict 
command, that there may not appear to be any thing un- 
suitable, or like grimace. For as the countenance is the 
image of the mind, so are eyes the informers as to what 
is going on within it. And their hilarity or sadness will 
be regulated by the circumstances which are under dis- 
cussion." 

" The eloquent orator, then (for that is what, according 
to Antonius, we are looking for), is a man who speaks in 
the forum and in civil causes in such a manner as to 
prove, to delight, and to persuade. To prove, is necessary 
for him; to delight, is a proof of his sweetness; to per- 
suade, is a token of victory. For that alone of all results 
is of the greatest weight towards gaining causes. But 
there are as many kinds of speaking as there are separate 
duties of an orator. The orator, therefore, ought to be a 
man of great judgment and of great ability, and he ought 
to be a "regulator, as it were, of this threefold variety of 



CICERO. 67 

duty. For he will judge what is necessary for every one; 
and he will be able to speak in whatever manner the cause 
requires. But the foundation of eloquence, as of all other 
things, is wisdom." 

" The orator must be a master of civil law, which foren- 
sic debates are in daily need of. For what is more shame- 
ful than for a man to undertake the conduct of legal and 
civil disputes, while ignorant of the statutes and of civil 
law? He must be acquainted also with the history of past 
ages and the chronology of old time, especially, indeed, 
as far as our own state is concerned; but also he must 
know the history of despotic governments and of illus- 
trious nionarchs." " For not to know what happened 
before one was born, is to be a boy all one's "life. For 
what is the life of a man unless by a recollection of 
bygone transactions it is united to the times of his prede- 
cessors? But the mention of antiquity and the citation of 
examples give authority and credit to a speech, combined 
with the greatest pleasure to the hearers." 

" The third kind of orator is the sublime, copious, dig- 
nified, ornate speaker, in whom there is the greatest 
amount of grace. For he it is out of admiration for 
whose ornamented style and copiousness of language na- 
tions have allowed eloquence to obtain so much influence 
in states; but it was only this eloquence, which is borne 
along in an impetuous course, and with a mighty noise 
which all men looked up, and admired, and had no idea 
that they themselves could possibly attain to. It belongs 
to this eloquence to deal with men's minds, and to influence 
them in every imaginable way. This is the style which 
sometimes forces its way into and sometimes steals into 
the senses; which implants new opinions in men, and 
eradicates others which have been long established." 

These excellent remarks of Cicero, on the art of oratory, 
ought to be duly considered by every one whose high 



68 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

calling it is to address public assemblies. We know of 
no better rules on this subject laid down by any ancient 
rhetorical writer than those which we find in the oratorical 
treatises of Cicero 

The idea of an accomplished orator existed in the mind 
of Cicero from his earliest years; and he exerted all his 
energies through a long and brilliant period, to attain per- 
fection in the oratorical art. 

" Ambitious from his youth of the honors attending a 
fine speaker, he early traveled to Greece, where he accu- 
mulated all the stores of knowledge and rules of art, 
which could be gathered from the rhetoricians, historians, 
and philosophers, of that intellectual land. While he 
thus extracted and imbibed the copiousness of Plato, the 
sweetness of Isocrates, and force of Demosthenes, he, at 
the same time, imbued his mind with a thorough knowledge 
of the laws, constitution, antiquities, and literature of his 
native country. Nor did he less study the peculiar tem- 
per, the jealousies, and enmities of the Roman people, 
both as a nation and as individuals, without a knowledge 
of which, his eloquence would have been unavailing in 
the forum or comitia, where so much was decided by 
favoritism and cabal. By these means he ruled the passions 
and deliberations of his countrymen with almost resistless 
sway — upheld the power of the senate — stayed the pro- 
gress of tyranny — drove the audacious Catiline from 
Rome — directed the feelings of the state in favor of Pom- 
pey — shook the strong mind of Csesar — and kindled a 
flame by which Antony had been nearly consumed. But 
the main secret of his success lay in the warmth and 
intensity of his feelings. His heart swelled with patriot- 
ism, and was dilated with the most magnificent conceptions 
of the glory of Rome. Though it throbbed with the fond- 
est anticipations of posthumous fame, the momentary 
acclaim of a multitude was a chord to which it daily and 



CICERO. 69 

most readily vibrated; while, at the same time, his high 
conceptions of oratory counteracted the bad effect which 
this exuberant vanity might otherwise have produced. 
Thus, when two speakers were employed in the same 
cause, though Cicero was the junior, to him was assigned 
the peroration, in which he surpassed all his contempora- 
ries; and he obtained this preeminence not so much on 
account of his superior genius or knowledge of law, as 
because he was more moved and affected himself, without 
which he would never have moved or affected his judges." 

" With powers of speaking beyond what had yet been 
known in his own country, and perhaps not inferior to 
those which had ever adorned any other, Cicero possessed, 
in a degree superior to all orators, of whatever age or 
nation, a general and discursive acquaintance with philo- 
sophy and literature, together with an admirable facility 
of communicating the fruits of his labors, in a manner 
the most copious, perspicuous, and attractive. To this 
extensive knowledge, by which his mind was enriched and 
supplied with endless topics of illustration — to the lofty 
ideas of eloquence, which perpetually revolved in his 
thoughts — to that image which ever haunted his breast, of 
such infinite and superhuman perfection in oratory, that 
even the periods of Demosthenes did not fill up the meas- 
ure of his conceptions, we are chiefly indebted for those 
emanations of genius, which have given, as it were, an im- 
mortal tongue to the now desolate forum and ruined senate 
of Rome."* 

It has been eloquently said that " Demosthenes snatched 
from Cicero the glory of being the firsts — Cicero from 
Demosthenes that of being the only orator." A compari- 
son has often been drawn between these princes of ora- 
tors, by ancient and modern critics. One of the most 

* Dunlop's History of Roman Literature. 



70 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

beautiful and forcible sketches of this kind is that by the 
celebrated Longinus in his treatise on the sublime: 

" The sublimity of the one," he remarks, "consists in his 
abruptness, that of the other in his diffuseness. Our 
countryman (Demosthenes), from the force, the fire, the 
mighty vehemence with which he bears down all before 
him, may be compared to a tempest or thunderbolt; 
while Cicero, like a wide-spreading conflagration, devours 
and rolls onward in every direction, ever maintaining its 
destructive energy, and nourished and supported from 
time to time by the fuel of various kinds with which it is 
continually supplied in its progress." 

In comparing these two great orators of antiquity, most 
of the modern French critics give the palm to Cicero. 
The famous archbishop Fenelon, however, looks upon De- 
mosthenes as the greatest orator. In a passage of remark- 
able beauty, he says: " I am not afraid to say that I think 
Demosthenes a greater orator than Cicero. I protest there 
is no man admires Cicero more than I do. He embel- 
lishes every thing he handles. He is an honor to speech; 
and makes that happy use of words that no one else could. 
He has a vast variety of wit. He is even concise and 
vehement when he designs to be so against Catiline, Verres, 
and Antony. But we may perceive some finery in his dis* 
courses. His art is wonderful; but still we discern it. 
While he is concerned for the safety of the republic, he 
does not forget that he is an orator, nor does he let others 
forget it." 

■ '• Demosthenes seems transported; and to have nothing 
in view but his country. He does not study what is beau- 
tiful, but naturally falls into it without reflecting. He is 
above admiration. He uses speech, as a modest man does 
his clothes, only to cover himself. He thunders; he light- 
ens; he is like a torrent that hurries every thing along 



CICERO. 71 

with it* We can not criticise him, for he is master of 
cur passions. We consider the things he says, and not his 
words. We lose sight of him: we think of Philip only, 
who usurps every thing. I am charmed with these two 
orators; but I confess that Tully's prodigious art and mag- 
nificent eloquence affect me less than the vehement sim- 
plicity of Demosthenes." 

Most of the English and American critics give the pre- 
ference to Demosthenes. Mr. Hume in his Essays, speaking 
of the charms of Ciceronian eloquence, says: " Some ob- 
jections, I own, nowithstanding his vast success, may lie 
against some passages of the Roman orator. He is too 
florid and rhetorical; his figures are too striking and pal- 
pable; the divisions of his discourse are drawn chiefly 
from the rules of the schools; and his wit disdains not 
always the artifice even of a pun, a rhyme, or jingle of 
words. The Grecian addressed himself to an audience 
much less refined than the Roman senate or judges. The 
lowest vulgar of Athens were his sovereigns, and the ar- 
biters of his eloquence. Yet is his manner more chaste 
and austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, 
its success would be infallible over a modern assembly. 

* A late writer, sketching the character of Scotland's greatest pulpit ora- 
tor, says, with much beauty and force, while adverting to the indescribable 
charms of his vehement delivery which doubtless closely resembled that of 
the Prince of Orators: " It is this peculiar energy which distinguishes Chal- 
mers, and which distinguishes all great orators. His mind is on fire with his 
subject, and transfers itself all glowing to the minds of his hearers. For the 
time being all are fused into one great whole, by the resistless might of his 
burning eloquence. In this respect Chalmers has been thought to approach, 
nearer than any other man of modern times, the style and tone of Demos- 
thenes. His manner has a torrent-vehemence, a sea-like swell and sweep, a 
bannered tramp as of armies rushing to deadly conflict. With one hand on 
his manuscript, and the other jerked forward with electric energy, he thun 
ders out his gigantic periods, as if winged with ' volleyed lightning.' The 
hearers are astonished, — awed, — carried away, — lifted upas on the wings 
of the wind, and borne : vhithersoever the master listeth.' " 



72 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

It is rapid harmony, exactly adjusted to the sense; it is 
vehement reasoning, without any appearance of art; it is 
disdain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued 
stream of argument. And of all human productions, the 
orations of Demosthenes present to us the models which 
approach the nearest to perfection."* 

Prof. Anthon observes: "Cicero's eloquence is like a 
consular triumph; he is himself the most conspicuous 
figure in the procession, which is swollen with the grand- 
eur and riches of conquered provinces. Demosthenes is 
the terrible sweep of a vast body of cavalry. Cicero's 
oratory was local, fitted only to the audience; in Athens it 
would not have been tolerated. Demosthenes was for the 
whole earth, and at all times. In Rome he would have 
been as resistless as in Athens; and his eloquence would 
be as convincing now as it was in the popular assemblies 
of old." 

Another eminent American critic, in noticing the grand 
characteristics of Demosthenian and Ciceronian oratory, 
has furnished us with the following beautiful comparison 
which will form an appropriate conclusion of this sketch : 

" It is not a little remarkable that Roman eloquence, like 
that of Greece, should have been illustrated by a single 
name, so transcendently brilliant, that, in the effulgence 
which surrounds it, predecessors and contemporaries seem 
merged and lost. If the fame of Demosthenes rests upon 
a rock, that of his great pupil has a substratum equally 
solid, and still broader, for his eloquence, learning and 
philosophy, have charmed and instructed countless thou- 
sands, to whom the orations of the former were as but a 
sealed book. " Cicero," it has sometimes and not extrava- 
gantly been said, " is only another name for eloquence." 
And for what department of deep research and eloquent 

* Essays, xii vol. 1, p. 120. 



CICERO. 73 

literature then open to the human mind, is not Cicero 
another name ? Where else shall we look for such a 
combination of all the elements of greatness? He was 
at -cnze a retorician and orator — a philosopher and 
statesman — a man of profound erudition, and lively 
wit. He lived and died a spotless patriot; and both 
in precept and example, was only less than a Christian 
moralist. 

These considerations must not be deemed out of place, 
though our object be to speak of Cicero as an orator. They 
suggest the main source of his acknowledged superiority. 
Others may have equaled or surpassed him, possibly, in 
single qualities, but who else ever drew the perennial 
streams of eloquence from a fountain so inexhaustible? 
He has indeed one great competitor, whose transcendent 
merits he has himself acknowledged and portrayed with 
equal candor and ability. The names of Cicero and De- 
mosthenes have long been coupled, and must ever shine 
like twin stars in the sky. Yet, let us say it reverently, 
they ' differ in glory.' While Demosthenes is brief and 
compact, Cicero is almost always diffuse. With the former, 
ornament is rare, and of secondary consideration; with 
the latter, abundant and evidently valued. Both abound 
in thought, but in one it is prominent and angular, like 
the muscular frame of Hercules, while in the other it is 
rotund and beautiful, as the Belvidere Apollo. Each 
makes use of consummate art; but while one conceals, the 
other displays it. The style of Demosthenes is nervous, 
that of Cicero flowing and graceful. The latter kindles 
the fancy, warms the passions, awakens the admiration of 
his hearers; but the former, with a giant's grasp, seizes 
their understandings and wills, and bends them to his 
purpose. Both added to their powers as orators the 
knowledge and abilities of the statesman, as both admin- 
istered for a time the government of their respective 
10 



7 4 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

countries. In fine, to the Grecian orator we concede the 
superiority on great occasions, the spirit and the energy 
which could rDuse a nation from apathy j but for him of 
Rome, we claim a higher praise as the orator of all occa^ 
sions, the delight and wonder of humanity." 




WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM. 
From the Original by Hoare. 



CHAPTER III. 



LOED CHATHAM. 

The latter part of the eighteenth century was the golden 
age of modern parliamentary, and forensic oratory. It 
was a period illuminated by the brilliant genius of Mira- 
beau and Vergniaud in France, — of Mansfield, Chatham, 
Burke, Fox, Pitt, Sheridan, Grattan, Curran, and Erskine 
in Great Britain, — of Henry, Otis, Quincy, Warren, Han- 
cock, Lee, Hamilton, and the Adamses in America. It was 
not only an age of oratorical glory, but one, pre-eminently, 
of literary and scientific greatness. Some of the most 
distinguished men that ever enlightened mankind then 
shone in the intellectual world. It was a period, too, for- 
ever illustrious in political history for some of the most 
important events that have ever occurred on our globe. 

This era, which we may designate as that of George III, 
is so beautifully described by Mr. Alison that we are 
tempted to repeat a passage of his graphic description, 
affording a grand view of the world when the flame of 
eloquence shone so steadily and so brightly in Europe 
and America. 

" The reign of George III," says that accomplished his- 
torian, " embraces, beyond all question, the most eventful 
and important period in the annals of mankind. In its 
eventful days were combined the growth of Grecian demo 
cracy with the passions of Roman ambition ; the fervor of 
plebeian zeal with the pride of aristocratic power; the 
blood of Marius with the genius of Caesar,- the opening of 



76 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

a nobler hemisphere to the enterprise of Columbus, with 
the rise of a social agent as mighty as the press or the 
powers of steam. 

44 But if new elements were called into action in the 
social world, of surpassing strength and energy, in the 
course of this memorable reign, still more remarkable 
were the characters which rose to eminence during its 
continuance. The military genius, unconquerable courage, 
and enduring constancy of Frederick,- the ardent mind, 
burning eloquence, and lofty patriotism of Chatham; the 
incorruptible integrity, sagacious intellect, and philosophic 
spirit of Franklin; the disinterested virtue, prophetic 
wisdom, and imperturbable fortitude of Washington; the 
masculine understanding, feminine passions, and blood- 
stained ambition of Catharine, would alone have been 
sufficient to cast a radiance over any other age of the 
world. But bright as were the stars of its morning light, 
more brilliant still was the constellation which shone forth 
in its meridian splendor, or cast a glow over the twilight 
of its evening shades. Then were to be seen the rival 
genius of Pitt and Fox, which, emblematic of the antagonist 
powers which then convulsed mankind, shook the British 
senate by their vehemence, and roused the spirit destined, 
ere long, for the dearest interests of humanity, to array 
the world in arms; then the great soul of Burke cast off 
the unworldly fetters of ambition or party, and, fraught 
with a giant's force and a prophet's wisdom, regained its 
destiny in the cause of mankind; then the arm of Nelson 
cast its thunderbolts on every shore, and preserved 
unscathed in the deep the ark of European freedom; and, 
ere his reign expired, the wisdom of Wellington had 
erected an impassable barrier to Gallic ambition, and said, 
even to the deluge of imperial power, ' Hitherto shalt 
thou come and no further, and here shall thy proud waves 
be staved.' Nor were splendid genius, heroic virtue, 



LORD CHATHAM. 77 

gigantic wickedness, wanting on the opposite side of this 
heart-stirring conflict. Mirabeau had thrown over the 
morning of the French Revolution the brilliant but de- 
ceitful light of democratic genius; Danton had colored its 
noontide glow with the passions and the energy of tribuni- 
tian power ; Carnot had exhibited the combination, rare in 
a corrupted age, of republican energy with private virtue ; 
Robespierre had darkened its evening days by the blood 
and agony of selfish ambition; Napoleon had risen like a 
meteor over its midnight darkness, dazzled the world by 
the brightness of his genius and the luster of his deeds, 
and lured its votaries, by the deceitful blaze of glory, to 
perdition. 

" In calmer pursuits in the tranquil walks of science 
and literature, the same age was, beyond all others, fruit- 
ful in illustrious men. Doctor Johnson, the strongest 
intellect and the most profound observer of the eighteenth 
century; Gibbon the architect of a bridge over the dark 
gulf which separates ancient from modern times, whose 
vivid genius has tinged with brilliant colors the greatest 
historical work in existence; Hume, whose simple but 
profound history will be coeval with the long and eventful 
thread of English story; Robertson, who first threw over 
the maze of human events the light of philosophic genius 
and the spirit of enlightened reflection; Gray, whose 
burning thoughts had been condensed in words of more 
than classic beauty; Burns, whose lofty soul spread its 
own pathos and dignity over the ' short and simple annals 
of the poor;' Smith, who called into existence a new sci- 
ence, fraught with the dearest interests of humanity, and 
nearly brought it to perfection in a single lifetime; Reid, 
who carried into the recesses of the human mind the 
torch of cool and sagacious inquiry; Stewart, who cast 
a luminous glance over the philosophy of mind, and 
warmed the inmost recesses of metaphysical inquiry by 



7 S ORATORS A N D STATESMEN. 

the delicacy of taste and the glow of eloquence; Watt, 
who added an unknown power to the resources of art, and 
in the regulated force of steam, discovered the means of 
approximating the most distant parts of the earth, and 
spreading in the wilderness of nature the wonders of Eu- 
ropean enterprise and the blessings of Christian civiliza- 
tion; these formed some of the ornaments of the period, 
during its earlier and more pacific times, forever memo- 
rable in the annals of scientific acquisition and literary- 
greatness." 

There is but little to interest us in the study of modern, 
parliamentary eloquence until we come to the time of Lord 
Chatham. It is true that we find some sudden bursts of 
genuine, patriotic eloquence in the speeches of Pym, Eliot, 
Vane, and other statesmen of the English Commonwealth, 
under Oliver Cromwell, yet we hear not the highest notes 
until Chatham arises and sways the British senate by the 
spell of his matchless oratory. Here, then, we date the 
era of parliamentary eloquence in the British nation; and, 
commencing with the name of Lord Chatham, we now 
proceed to contemplate some of her most illustrious ora- 
tors and statesmen. 

The " great and celebrated name " of Chatham will be 
repeated with admiration as long as the soul-stirring 
strains of " eloquence divine " shall continue to please the 
ear and charm the heart. 

William Pitt, first earl of Chatham, was born at London, 
on the 15th of November, 1708. At an early age, he was 
sent to Eton, where he was distinguished for the brilliancy 
of his talents, and for the constancy of his application to 
study. While at Eton, we are told that he was the pride 
and boast of the school; that his preceptor valued himself 
on having so bright a scholar, and showed him to every one 
as a youth of extraordinary parts. Here he acquired that 
love of the classics which he ever afterwards cherished, 



LORD CHATHAM. 79 

and which, doubtless, ha»d considerable influence in form- 
ing his character as an accomplished orator. After the 
usual course of study at Eton, Mr. Pitt was removed, at 
the age of eighteen, to the University of Oxford. Here 
he devoted the principal portion of his time to the study 
of history and the classical writers of antiquity. He now 
commenced the practice of writing out translations from 
the most celebrated orators and historians of Greece and 
Rome. He chose Demosthenes as his model, and, in order 
to acquire a terse and forcible style, he translated, several 
times over, a large part of his orations into English. Such 
a practice is highly commended by Cicero. It is the best 
means of obtaining an extensive command of language, 
and of acquiring a copious diction. " It aids the young 
orator far more effectually in catching the spirit of his 
model than any course of mere reading, however fervent 
or repeated. It is likewise the severest test of his com- 
mand of language." 

Mr. Pitt also read with the greatest pleasure, the best 
English classics. It is said that he perused some of Dr. 
Barrow's sermons so often that he knew them by heart; 
and that he w r ent twice through with the folio Dictionary 
of Bailey. " At this time, also, he began those exercises 
in elocution by which he is known to have obtained his 
extraordinary powers of delivery. Though gifted by 
nature with a commanding voice and person, he spared 
no effort to add every thing that art could confer for his 
improvement as an orator. His success was commensurate 
with his zeal. Garrick himself was not a greater actor, in 
that higher sense of the term in w r hich Demosthenes de- 
clared action to be the first, and second, and third thing 
in oratory. The labor which he bestowed on these exer- 
cises was surprisingly great. Probably no man of genius 
since the days of Cicero, has ever submitted to an equal 
amount of drudgery." 



80 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Ill health compelled Mr. Pitt to leave the University 
without taking a degree. For the benefit of his health he 
traveled in France and Italy, where he enriched his mind 
with a vast amount of historical and literary information. 
He had but one object in view, and that was a preparation 
for public life. " He thus acquired," says Lord Chester- 
field, " a vast amount of premature and useful knowledge." 
Returning to England, he entered the army as a Cornet of 
Horse. 

In 1735, at the age of twenty-six, Mr. Pitt obtained a 
seat in Parliament as member for Old Sarum. He imme- 
diately took a prominent part in opposition to Robert 
Walpole, the Prime Minister. It is said that this distin- 
guished statesman, surrounded as he was with such power, 
and the support of a decided majority, never heard the 
voice of Pitt, in the House of Commons, without being 
alarmed and thunder-struck, so terrible were his invectives, 
and so overwhelming his eloquence. 

On the 29th of April, 1736, Mr. Pitt delivered his maiden 
speech, on the motion of Mr. Pulteney for a congratulatory 
address to the King, on the marriage of the Prince of 
Wales. This speech was received with the greatest ap- 
plause. The first sound of Mr. Pitt's voice terrified Sir 
Robert Walpole, who immediately exclaimed, after hear- 
ing the speech, " We must, at all events, muzzle that ter- 
rible Cornet of Horse." It is said that Walpole offered to 
promote Pitt in the army, provided he would give up his 
seat in Parliament. However this may have been, Walpole 
finding him unalterably attached to the Opposition, de- 
prived him of his commission. An act so arbitrary only 
rendered Walpole and the court more odious than they 
had been, while it increased the popularity of Pitt, by 
creating a general sympathy in his favor. About the same 
time Lord Lyttleton addressed him in the following lines, 
which were widely circulated: 



LORD CHATHAM. 31 

" Long had thy virtues marked thee out for fame, 
Far, far superior to a Cornet's name-, 
This generous Walpole saw, and grieved to find 
So mean a post disgrace the human mind, 
The servile standard from the free-born hand 
He took, and bade thee lead the Patriot Band." 

From 1736 to 1744, Mr. Pitt was an active member of 
the Opposition. For nearly seven years, he strenuously 
exerted himself to put down Sir Robert Walpole. By the 
force of his genius, and the power of his eloquence, he 
soon became one of the most influential members of Par- 
liament. He gained a complete ascendency over the House. 
All acknowledged the vast resources of his mind, and the 
transcendent powers of his oratory. Few dared oppose 
him, and none could withstand his scathing invectives. 
Even Murray* (afterwards Lord Mansfield), his great anta- 
gonist, whenever he came into collision with him, trembled 
and shrunk. A striking instance of Mr. Pitt's silencing 
and terrifying this distinguished statesman is on record. 
It well exhibits the bold, dashing eloquence of Pitt, before 
which even the greatest orators of the British senate were 
confounded. In 1754, Mr. Pitt delivered two speeches, 

* William Murray, first Earl of Mansfield, was born at Scpne Castle, near 
Perth, in Scotland, on the 2d of March, 170-3, and died on the 20th of March, 
1793, in the eighty-ninth year of his age. He was one of the most powerful 
Parliamentary and forensic orators that ever shone in the senate or the forum. 
" The countenance of Lord Mansfield," says a friend and contemporary, "was 
uncommonly beautiful, and none could ever behold it, even in advanced years, 
without reverence. Nature had given him an eye of fire; and his voice, till 
it was affected by the years which passed over him, was perhaps unrivaled in 
the sweetness and variety of its tones. There was a similitude between his 
action and that of Mr. Garrick." — " His manner was persuasive, with 
enough of force and animation to secure the closest attention. His illustra- 
tions were- always apposite, and sometimes striking and beautiful. His lan- 
guage, in his best speeches, was select and graceful; and his whole style of 
speaking approached as near as possible to that dignified conversation which 
has always been considered appropriate to the House of Lords." 
11 



82 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ostensibly against Jacobitism, but really intended to crust 
Murray, who had just been raised from the office of Soli- 
citor to that of Attorney General. " In both speeches," 
says Fox, " every word was Murray, yet so managed that 
neither he nor any body else could take public notice of 
it, or in any way reprehend him. I sat near Murray, who 
suffered for an hour." It was, perhaps, on this occasion, 
says Butler, in his Reminiscences, that Pitt used an ex- 
pression which was once in every mouth. After Murray 
had " suffered " for a time, Pitt stopped, threw his eyes 
around, then fixing their whole power on Murray, ex- 
claimed, " I must now address a few words to Mr. Attorney; 
they shall be few, but shall be daggers." Murray was 
agitated; the look was continued; the agitation increased. 
" Felix trembles!" exclaimed Pitt, in a tone of thunder; 
" lie shall hear me some other day /" He sat down. Murray 
made no reply; and a languid debate showed the paralysis 
of the House. Such were the effects of Mr. Pitt's oratory 
when he wished to be severe. 

Another instance of Mr. Pitt confounding a member 
of Parliament, and awing the House into silence, occurred 
several years after, when he had become an invalid. Hav- 
ing finished a speech in the House of Commons, he walked 
out with a slow step, being severely afflicted with the 
gout. A silence ensued until the door was opened to let 
him pass into the lobby, when a member started up, saying, 
" Mr. Speaker, I rise to reply to the right honorable gen- 
tleman " — " Pitt, who had caught the words, turned back 
and fixed his eye on the orator, who instantly sat down. 
He then returned towards his seat, repeating, as he hob- 
bled along, the lines of Virgil, in which the poet, conduct- 
ing iEneas through the shades below, describes the terror 
which his presence inspired among the ghosts of the Greeks 
who had fought at Troy." 



LORD CHATHAM. %*\ 

" Ast Danaum proceres, Agamemnoniceque phalanges 
Ut videre virtcm, fulgentiaque arma per umbras, 
Ingenti trepidare metu ; pars vertere terga, 
Ceu quondam petiere rates ; pars tollere vocem 
Exiguam : inccptus clamor frustratur hiantes.* 

Virgil JEn., vi., 489. 

Reaching his seat, Pitt exclaimed, in a tone that terrified 
the whole House, " Now let me hear what the honorable 
gentleman has to say to me I" One who was present, being 
asked whether the house was not convulsed with laugh- 
ter, at the ludicrous situation of the poor orator and the 
aptness of the lines, replied, "No, sir; we were all too 
much awed to laugh." 

A similar anecdote is recorded of the celebrated Mira- 
beau,f in the debate of the National Assembly, when Neckar 

* The Grecian chiefs, and Agamemnon's host, 
When they beheld the man with shining arms 
Amid those shades, trembled with sudden fear. 
Part turned their backs in flight, as wben they sought 
Their ships. * * * * Part raised 
A feeble outcry; but the sound commenced, 
Died on their gasping tips. 

t Honore Gabriel Riquette, Compte de Mirabeau was born at Bignon, in 
France, on the 9th of March, 1749. He was the greatest of the French 
political orators. The following graphic sketch of his oratorical character, 
which will afford the reader some idea of his vehemence as a public speaker, 
is furnished by a distinguished French writer. 

' k Mirabeau in the tribune was the most imposing of orators: an orator so 
consummate, that it is harder to say what he wanted than what he possessed. 

11 Mirabeau had a massive and square obesity of figure, thick lips, a forehead 
broad, bony, prominent; arched eyebrows, an eagle eye, cheeks flat and some- 
what flabby, features full of pock-holes and blotches, a voice of thunder, an 
enormous mass of hair, and the face of a lion. 

" His manner as an orator is that of the great masters :»f antiquity, with 
an admirable energy of gesture and a vehemence of dictior. which perhaps they 
had never reached. 

t; Mirabeau in his premeditated discourses was admirable. But what was 
ae not in his extemporaneous effusions? His natural vehemence, of which he 



84 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

had proposed an extraordinary subsidy by a vote of credit 
as the only escape from national bankruptcy. Mirabeau 
supported this, in a speech which carried the vote of the 
Assembly by storm. A member got up and said, " I rise 
to reply to M. de Mirabeau." Mirabeau glared on his 
opponent; and the assembly gazed with silent surprise at 
the man who could venture to reply to such a speech. 
The unlucky orator, after standing for a moment with his 
mouth open and his arm raised, sat down without uttering 
another word. 

In December, 1756, Mr. Pitt entered on the duties of 
Prime Minister. During his brief, but glorious adminis- 
tration, he was supported by the unanimous voice of the 
people; but the King regarded him with personal dislike; 
and in April, 1757, he was deprived of his office. So great 

repressed the flights in his prepared speeches, broke down all barriers in his 
improvisations. A sort of nervous irritability gave then to his whole frame 
an almost preternatural animation and life. His breast dilated with an impe- 
tuous breathing. His lion face became wrinkled and contorted. His eyes shot 
forth flame. He roared, he stamped, he shook the fierce mass of his hair, all 
whitened with foam; he trod the tribune with the supreme authority of a 
master, and the imperial air of a king. What an interesting spectacle to be- 
hold him, momently, erect and exalt himself under the pressure of obstacle! 
To see him display the pride of his commanding brow! To see him, like the 
ancient orator, when, with all the powers of his unchained eloquence, he was 
wont to sway to and fro in the forum the agitated waves of the Roman multi- 
tude! Then would he throw by the measured notes of his declamation, habitu- 
ally grave and solemn. Then would escape him broken exclamations, tones 
of thunder, and accents of heartrending and terrible pathos. He concealed 
with the flesh and color of his rhetoric the sinewy arguments of his dialectics. 
He transported the Assembly, because he was himself transported. And yet — 
so extraordinary was his force — he abandoned himself to the torrent of his 
eloquence, without wandering from his course; he mastered others by its sov- 
ereign sway, without losing for an instant his own self-control." 

As a fine specimen of his burning eloquence, we quote his beautiful eulogium 
on our immortal Franklin, pronounced on the 11th of June, 1790: 

u Franklin is dead ! Restored to the bosom of the divinity is that genius 
which gave freedom to America, and rayed forth torrents of light upon Europe. 



LORD CHATHAM. 85 

was the popularity of Mr. Pitt, that immediately after his 
dismissal, he received addresses of thanks, expressed in 
the warmest language, from all parts of the kingdom. 
" For some weeks," says Horace Walpole, " it rained gold 
boxes ! " In vain did the king attempt to form another 
administration; and Pitt was borne back to the cabinet, 
as it were, " on the shoulders of the people." 

In June, 1757, his second administration commenced. 
It was, perhaps, the most brilliant one that British history 
has ever recorded. By the powers of his sagacious mind, 
and unrivaled eloquence, Mr. Pitt raised England from 
the brink of ruin to a high position among the nations of 
the world. His administration infused a new spirit into 
the political and military affairs of the nation. Every- 
thing was done with promptness while he held the reins 
of government. England was then at war with France; 

The sage whom two worlds claim — the man whom the history of empires 
and the history of science alike contend for — occupied, it can not be denied, 
a lofty rank among his species. Long enough have political cabinets signal- 
ized the death of those who were great in their funeral eulogies only. Long 
enough has the etiquette of courts prescribed hypocritical mournings. For 
their benefactors only should nations assume the emblems of grief 5 and the 
representatives of nations should commend only the heroes of humanity to 
public veneration. 

" In the fourteen states of the confederacy, Congress has ordained a mourn- 
ing of two months for the death of Franklin; and America is at this moment 
acquitting herself of this tribute of honor to one of the Fathers of her Consti- 
tution. Would it not become us, gentlemen, to unite in this religious act; to 
participate in this homage, publicly rendered, at once to the rights of man, 
and to the philosopher who has contributed most largely to their vindication 
throughout the world? Antiquity would have erected altars to this great and 
powerful genius, who, to promote the welfare of mankind, comprehending 
both the heavens and the earth in the range of his thought, could at once 
snatch the bolt from the cloud and the scepter from tyrants. France, enlight- 
ened and free, owes at least the acknowledgment of her remembrance and 
regret to one of the greatest intellects that ever served the united cause of 
philosophy and liberty. I propose that it be now decreed that the National 
Assembly wear mourning, during three days, for Benjamin Franklin. " Mira- 
beau di-vi in 1791. 



86 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and, daring his administration, she won several of the 
most brilliant victories that ever graced the British arms. 
The English were victorious in almost every quarter; in 
Asia, Africa, and America. Their flag waved triumph- 
antly over the seas. It was at this time that Admiral 
Hawke gained his brilliant naval victory off Quiberon, 
and that the gallant Wolfe, whom Pitt himself had brought 
forward, expired in the arms of victory, at Quebec. The 
vigorous plans which Mr. Pitt formed for carrying on the 
war with France, and the great ability with which he 
managed the whole affairs of government, proved that he 
was the greatest statesman that England had produced.* 

France was soon effectually humbled, and, in 1761, 
sought for peace. Mr. Pitt declared to his friends, when 
about to enter on the negotiation, that " no Peace of 
Utrecht should again stain the annals of England." In 
the meantime, France entered into a close alliance with 
Spain. The French minister, now changing his tone, came 
forward with proposals which Mr. Pitt spurned. He de- 
clared that " he would not relax one syllable from his 
terms, until the Tower of London was taken by storm. 5 ' 
But Mr. Pitt could no longer carry his measures. George 
III had ascended the throne, and with his accession anew 
favorite, the Earl of Bute, rose into power. The proposal 
of Mr. Pitt, for immediately declaring war against Spain, 
was voted down by an obsequious cabinet,- whereupon he 
instantly resigned, " in order not to remain responsible for 
measures which he was no longer allowed to guide." 
Thus ended his glorious ministry, on the 5th of Octo- 
ber, 1761. 

•*" As a statesman, his influence over the minds of the people was more 
universal and powerful than that of any minister whom the world has seen. 
He spread an enthusiasm amongst the people which never before was equaled. 
He persuaded the nation that it was invincible and irresistible, and he lived to 
prove the truth of his assertions. — Thackeray. 



LORD CHATHAM. 87 

During the remainder of his life, with the exception of 
a brief season, he acted with the opposition. On the 
downfall of the Rockingham administration, Mr. Pitt was 
called upon to frame a new ministry. Giving the lead to 
Charles Townsend, he withdrew from the House of Com- 
mons, selected for himself the office of Lord Privy Seal, 
and passed into the Upper House, with the title of Lord 
Chatham. Acquiring no glory in his new administration, 
he resigned office, October 15th, 1768. He was grieved to 
find that the news of this event attracted but little notice 
throughout England. His glorious career seemed to have 
terminated in obscurity. " His sun appeared to have sunk 
at mid-day, amid clouds and gloom. Little did any one 
imagine that it was again to break forth with a purer 
splendor, and to fill the whole horizon around with the 
radiance of its setting beams." His eloquence shone 
brightest in the evening of his days. Then it broke forth 
"with a fury and splendor that might have awed the 
world, and make kings tremble." He came forward as 
the advocate of liberty — as the defender of the rights of 
his fellow-citizens — as the enemy of tyranny — as the 
friend of his country, and of mankind. Lord Chatham 
acquired his greatest glory as an orator in advocating the 
ciuse of the American colonies against the injustice and 
tyranny of the mother country. 

When Mr. George Grenville brought forward his obnox- 
ious Stamp Act in 1765, Mr. Pitt was prevented by illness 
from attending the House of Commons, but he took the 
earliest opportunity of protesting against such an Act ■. — 
of raising his voice in a lofty strain of eloquence for its 
repeal. He boldly asserted that " the British Parliament 
had no right to tax America, that country not being repre- 
sented in the House of Commons." 

On the 14th of January, 1766, Mr. Pitt delivered his 
celebrated speech against the Stamp Act, in which he ably 



83 .ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

discussed the right of taxing America. This speech "was 
reported with considerable accuracy by Sir Robert Dean, 
aided by Lord Charlemont. 

We shall presently present some of the finest passages 
of Chatham's eloquence. He who would teach eloquence, 
as Hume well observes, must do it chiefly by examples ; 
and where can be found, in the whole range of English 
oratory, specimens of greater beauty for the imitation and 
admiration of the young student, than some of the fine 
passages of Lord Chatham's speeches'? 

From his speech in 1766, for the repeal of the Stamp 
Act, a speech which contains several sublime passages, and 
exhibits a fair specimen of his style of composition, we 
present the following extracts : 

"Mr. Speaker, — I came to town but to-day. I was a 
stranger to the tenor of his Majesty's speech, and the pro- 
posed address, till I heard them read in this House. 
Unconnected and unconsulted, I have not the means of 
information. I am fearful of offending through mistake, 
and therefore beg to be indulged with a second reading 
of the proposed address. [The address being read, Mr. 
Pitt went on.] I commend the King's speech, and approve 
of the address in answer, as it decides nothing, every gen- 
tleman being left at perfect liberty to take such a part 
concerning America as he may afterward see fit. One 
word only I can not approve of: an ' early,' is a word that 
does not belong to the notice the ministry have given to 
Parliament of the troubles in America. In a matter of 
such importance, the communication ought to have been 
immediate ! 

" I speak not now with respect to parties. I stand up in 
this place single and independent. As to the late minis- 
try [turning himself to Mr. Grenville, who sat within one 
of him] , every capital measure they have taken has been 
entirely wrong ! As to the present gentlemen, to those at 



LORD CHATHAM. 89 

least whom I have in my eye [looking at the bench where 
General Conway sat with the lords of the treasury], I have 
no objection. I have never been made a sacrifice by any 
of them. Their characters are fair ; and I am always glad 
when men of fair character engage in his Majesty's ser- 
vice. Some of them did me the honor to ask my opinion 
before they would engage. These will now do me the 
justice to own, I advised them to do it — but, notwithstand- 
ing (for I love to be explicit), I can not give them i.iy con- 
fidence. Pardon me, gentlemen [bowing to the ministry] , 
confidence is a plant of slow growth in an aged bosom. 
Youth is the season of credulity. By comparing events 
with each other, reasoning from effects to causes, methinks 
I plainly discover the traces of an overriding influence.* 

" It is a long time, Mr. Speaker, since I have attended 
in Parliament. When the resolution was taken in this 
House to tax America, I was ill in bed. If I could have 
endured to be carried in my bed — so great was the agita- 
tion of my mind for the consequences — I would have 
solicited some kind hand to have laid me down on this 
floor, to have borne my testimony against it ! It is now an 
act that has passed. I would speak with decency of every 
act of this House; but I must beg the indulgence of the 
House to speak of it with freedom." 

In reply to Mr. Grenville who said, that, " the seditious 
spirit of the colonies owes its birth to the factions in this 
House, and that America was almost in open rebellion," 
Mr. Pitt exclaimed in a lofty strain of bold, impassioned 

* Says Butler, in his Reminiscences, "Those who remember the air of 
condescending protection with which the bow was made, and the look given, 
when he spoke these words, will recollect how much they themselves, at the 
moment, were both delighted and awed-, and what they themselves then con- 
ceived of the immeasurable superiority of the orator over every human being 
that surrounded him. In the passages which we have cited, there is nothing 
which an ordinary speaker might not have said ; it was the manner, and the 
manner only which produced the effect." 

12 



90 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

eloquence, " Gentlemen, Sir, have been charged with 
giving birth to sedition in America. They have spoken 
their sentiments with freedom against this unhappy act, 
and that freedom has become their crime. Sorry I am to 
hear the liberty of speech in this House imputed as a 
crime. But the imputation shall not discourage me. It 
is a liberty I mean to exercise. No gentlemen ought to be 
afraid to exercise it. It is a liberty by which the gentle- 
man who calumniates it might have profited. He ought to 
have desisted from his project. The gentleman tells us, 
America is obstinate; America is almost in open rebellion. 
I rejoice that America has resisted.* Three millions of 
people, so dea 1 to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily 
to submit to be slaves, would have been fit instruments to 
make slaves of the rest."' 

" A great deal has been said without doors of the 
power, of the strength of America. It is a topic that 
ought to be cautiously meddled with. In a good cause, 
on a sound bottom, the force of this country can crush 
America to atoms. I know the valor of your troops. I 
know the skill of your officers. There is not a company 
of foot that has served in America, out of which you may 
not pick a man of sufficient knowledge and experience to 
make a governor of a colony there. But on this ground, — 
on the Stamp Act, which so many here will think a crying 
injustice, — lam one who will lift up*my hands against 
it." 

"In such a cause, your success would be hazardous 
America, if she fell, would fall like the strong man; sh< 
would embrace the pillars of the state, and pull down th* 
Constitution along with her. Is this your boasted peace - 
not to sheathe the sword in its scabbard, but to sheathe it 
in the bowels of your countrymen? Will you quarxe] 

* The immortal Grattan used to pronounce this passage finer thar any 
thins; in Demosthenes. 



LORD CHATHAM. 9 1 

with yourselves, now the whole house of Bourbon is 
united against you; while France disturbs your fisheries in 
Newfoundland, embarrasses your slave trade to Africa, 
and withholds from your subjects in Canada their property 
stipulated by treaty; while the ransom for the Manillas is 
denied by Spain; and its gallant conqueror basely traduced 
into a mean plunderer! a gentleman (Colonel Draper),whose 
.noble and generous spirit would do honor to the proudest 
grandee of the country? The Americans have not acted 
in all things with prudence and temper: they have been 
wronged; they have been driven to madness by injustice. 
Will you punish them for the madness you have occa- 
sioned? Rather let prudence and temper come first from 
this side. I will undertake for America that she will 
follow the example. There are two lines in a ballad of 
Prior's, of a man's behavior to his wife, so applicable to 
you and your colonies, that I can not help repeating 
them: 

' Be to her faults a little blind; 
Be to her virtues very kind.' 

" Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the House what 
is my opinion. It is, that the Stamp Act be repealed abso- 
lutely, totally, and immediately." 

Through the eloquence of Pitt, Colonel Barre, Burke, 
and other kindred spirits, a bill, repealing the Stamp Act 
passed, after a stormy debate; but it was accompanied 
with a Declaratory Act, which asserted the authority of 
the King and Parliament in making laws that should 
*' bind the colonies and people of America in all cases 
whatsoever I" This Act met with decided opposition from 
Lord Camden in the House of Lords. " My position," 
said he, " is this — I repeat it — I will maintain it to the 
last hour: Taxation and representation are inseparable. 
This position is founded on the laws of nature. It is 
more; it is in itself an eternal law of nature. For what- 



02 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ever is a man's own is absolutely his own. No man has a 
right to take it from him without his consent, either ex- 
pressed by himself or his representative. Whoever at- 
tempts to do this, attempts an injury. Whoever does 
it, commits a robbery. He throws down and destroys 
the distinction between liberty and slavery." The Decla- 
ratory Act finally passed, and Charles Townsend, carrying 
out its principles the next year (17G7), formed a new plan 
of taxing America, by imposing duties on glass, paper, 
pasteboard, white and red lead, painters' colors and tea, 
imported into the colonies. When the fatal measure w T as 
proposed, Lord Chatham was confined in the country by 
severe illness. Charles Townsend was thus left at the 
head of affairs; and it is said that he was continually 
goaded by Mr. Grenville on the subject of American 
taxation. " You are cowards ! You are afraid of the 
Americans. You dare not tax America!" The hasty 
spirit of Townsend was roused by these attacks. " Fear?" 
said he, " Cowards'? Dare not tax America? 1 dare tax 
America!" After a momentary pause, Grenville said, 
" Dare you tax America? I wish you would do it." 
Townsend replied, " I will, I will." Thus originated the 
measure which resulted in the achievement of American 
Independence. W T hen this bill was passed, it immediately 
raised another storm throughout the colonies. Lord 
North, on coming into power, about two years after, intro- 
duced a bill repealing all the duties imposed by the act of 
1767, except that on tea. This still recognized the right 
of. taxation, to w T hich the colonies would never submit. 
They resolved that the tea should not be landed. In Bos- 
ton, on the evening of December 18th, 1773, a large com- 
pany of men, disguised as Indians, went on board the 
British ships, lying in the harbor, broke open 342 chests 
of tea and emptied their contents into the water. To 
punish the inhabitants of Massachusetts for their oppo- 



LORD CHATHAM. 93 

sition to such tyrannical acts, Parliament passed still more 
arbitrary laws, closing the port of Boston, depriving Mas- 
sachusetts of her charter, and authorizing the quartering 
of British soldiers on the inhabitants of Boston. Such 
measures only tended to increase the ilame of liberty, 
which had already been kindled in every patriotic bosom. 
At length the torch of war was lighted, and the thunder 
of cannon shook the land. 

Lord Chatham, though in a very feeble state of health, 
came into Parliament to raise his voice once more against 
the oppressive laws of his country, and to urge the adop- 
tion of such measures as would bring about a speedy 
reconciliation between the colonies and the mother country. 
But it was too late; the revolution was now fairly in pro- 
gress. The storm had gathered and burst on America; 
and the patriotic band of brothers and of freemen there, 
pledging to each other their lives, their fortunes, and their 
sacred honor, had resolved to fight on, through fears, 
through darkness, through distress, until the clouds should 
break away, and the genial sky of liberty smile in peace 
and happiness over a redeemed country — until the star 
spangled banner, elevated by Washington, and Franklin, 
and Adams, and Jefferson, and a host of other brave hearts, 
on the portals of our Capitol, should wave triumphantly 
in the air of freedom, bearing aloft this glorious inscrip- 
tion, " Independence now, and Independence forever! " 

The disturbances which terminated in the American 
revolution gave rise to five of the most celebrated speeches 
of Lord Chatham. It is a very favorable circumstance 
that these speeches were reported with a considerable de- 
gree of verbal accuracy by Mr. Hugh Boyd, and Sir Philip 
Francis,* and that the best of them — that on a motion 

* Sir Philip Francis is supposed by many to have been the author of the 
celebrated letters of Junius, which are so justly admired for their brilliant and 
forcible style. Among others the great historian of England, Mr. Macaulay, 
*s firmly conv ; r^d that this distinguished statesman was Junius. 



di ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

for an address to the Throne, containing the famous reply 
to Lord Suffolk, relating to the employment of the Indians 
in the war — was revised by Lord Chatham himself. These 
speeches were the last and greatest efforts of Chatham, 
and they afford some of the most beautiful, vehement and 
sublime passages that eloquence has ever produced. On 
the style and construction of these speeches, Prof. Good- 
rich, one of the most eminent of American critics, well 
observes: " They are the best specimens we possess of his 
style and diction; and it would be difficult, in the whole 
range of our literature, to find more perfect models for 
the study and imitation of the young orator. The words 
are admirably chosen. The sentences are not rounded or 
balanced periods, but are made up of short clauses, which 
flash themselves upon the mind with all the vividness of 
distinct ideas, and yet are closely connected together as 
tending to the same point, and uniting to form larger 
masses of thought. Nothing can be more easy, varied, 
and natural than the style of these speeches. There is no 
mannerism about them. They contain some of the most 
vehement passages in English oratory; and yet there is no 
appearance of effort, no straining after effect. They have 
this infallible mark of genius — they make every one feel, 
that if placed in like circumstances, he would have said 
exactly the same things in the same manner." 

On the 27th of May, 1774, Lord Chatham delivered the 
first of these celebrated speeches, in the House of Lords, 
on the bill authorizing the quartering of British troops on 
the citizens of Boston. In the course of this speech he 
said: "My Lords, I am an old man, and would advise the 
noble Lords in office to adopt a more gentle mode of gov- 
erning America; for the day is not far distant when Amer- 
ica may vie with these kingdoms, not only in arms, but 
in arts also. It is an established fact that the principal 
towns in America are learned and polite, and understand 



LORD CHATHAM. 95 

the constitution of the empire as well as ,he noble Lords 
who are now in office; and, consequently, they will have a 
watchful eye over their liberties, to prevent the least en- 
croachment on their hereditary rights. 

" This, my Lords, though no new doctrine, has always 
been my received and unalterable opinion, and I will carry 
it to my grave, that this country had no right tinder heaven 
to tax America. It is contrary to all the principles of jus- 
tice and civil polity, which neither the exigencies of the 
state, nor even an acquiescence in the taxes, could justify 
upon any occasion whatever. Such proceedings will never 
meet their wished-for success. Instead of adding to their 
miseries, as the bill now before you most undoubtedly 
does, adopt some lenient measures, which may lure them 
to their duty. Proceed like a kind and affectionate parent 
over a child whom he tenderly loves, and, instead of those 
harsh and severe proceedings, pass an amnesty on their 
youthful errors, clasp them once more in your fond and 
affectionate arms, and I will venture to affirm you will find 
them children worthy of their sire." 

Notwithstanding this eloquent speech, full of warning 
and remonstrances, the bill was passed by a majority of 
57 to 16. 

On the 20th of January, 1775, Lord Chatham delivered 
a most eloquent speech, on a motion for an address to his 
Majesty, for the immediate removal of the British troops 
from Boston. When he arose to speak, says one who 
witnessed the scene, " all was silence and profound atten- 
tion. Animated, and almost inspired by his subject, no 
seemed to feel his own unrivaled superiority. His vener- 
able figure, dignified and graceful in decay, his language, 
his voice, his gesture, were such as might, at this moment;- 
ous crisis, big with the fate of Britain, seem to characterize 
him as the guardian genius of his country." In the rHsvy 
of Josiali Quincy, jr., we find the following memorandum, 



9 5 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

alluding to this speech. " Attended the debates in the 
House of Lords. Good fortune gave me one of the best pla- 
ces for hearing, and taking a few minutes. Lord Chatham 
rose like Marcellus. His language, voice and gesture were 
more pathetic than I ever saw or heard before, at the bar 
or senate. He seemed like an old Roman senator, rising 
with the dignity of age, yet speaking with the fire of 
youth " Lord Chatnam thus commenced his speech: " My 
Lords, after more than six weeks' possession of the papers 
now before you, on a subject so momentous, at a time 
when the fate of this nation hangs on every hour, the 
ministry have at length condescended to submit to the 
consideration of this House, intelligence from America 
with which your Lordships and the public have been long 
and fully acquainted. 

" The measures of last year, my Lords, which have pro- 
duced the present alarming state of America, were founded 
upon misrepresentation. They were violent, precipitate, 
and vindictive. The nation was told that it was only a 
faction in Boston which opposed all lawful government; 
that an unwarrantable injury had been done to private 
property, for which the justice of Parliament was called 
upon to order reparation; that the least appearance of 
firmness would awe the Americans into submission, and 
upon only passing the Rubicon we should be 'sine clade 
victor.'* 

"I wish, my Lords, not to lose a day in the urgent, 
pressing crisis. An hour now lost in allaying ferments in 
America may produce years of calamity. For my own 
part, I will not desert, for a moment, the conduct of this 
weighty business, from the first to the last. Unless nailed 
to my bed by the extremity of sickness, I will give it un- 
remitted attention. I will knock at the door of this 

**• Victorious without slaughter. 



LORD CHATHAM. 97 

sleeping and confounded ministry, and will rouse them to 
a sense of their danger. 

" When I urge this measure of recalling the troops from 
Boston, I urge it on this pressing principle, that it is 
necessarily preparatory to the restoration of your peace 
and the establishment of your prosperity. It will then 
appear that you are disposed to treat amicably and equita- 
bly; and to consider, revise and repeal, if it should be 
found necessary (as I affirm it will), those violent acts and 
declarations which nave disseminated confusion through- 
out your empire. 

"Resistance to your acts was necessary as it was just; 
and your vain declarations of the omnipotence of Parlia- 
ment, and your imperious doctrines of the necessity of 
submission, will be found equally impotent to convince 
or to enslave your fellow-subjects in America, who feel 
that tyranny, whether ambitioned by an individual part of 
the Legislature, or the bodies who compose it, is equally 
intolerable to British subjects. 

" This resistance to your arbitrary system of taxation 
might have been foreseen. It was obvious from the nature 
of things, and of mankind; and, above all, from the whig- 
gish spirit flourishing in that country. This glorious whig 
spirit animates three millions in America, who prefer 
poverty with liberty, to gilded chains and sordid affluence; 
and who will die in defense of their rights as men, as 
freemen. What shall oppose this spirit, aided by the 
congenial flame glowing in the breast of every whig in 
England? ' 'Tis liberty to liberty engaged,' that they will 
defend themselves, their families, and their country. In 
this great cause they are immovably allied: it is the alli- 
ance of God and nature, immutable, eternal, — fixed as 
the firmament of heaven. 

" But it is not repealing this act of Parliament, it is not 

repealing a piece of parchment, that can restore America 
13 



98 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

to our bosom. You must repeal her fears and her resent- 
ments, and you may then hope for her love and gratitude. 
But now, insulted with an armed force posted at Boston, 
irritated with a hostile army before her eyes, her conces- 
sions, if you could force them, would be suspicious and 
insecure; they will be * irato animo' [with an angry spirit] ; 
they will not be the sound, honorable passions of freemen ; 
they will be the dictates of fear and extortions of force. 
But it is more than evident that you can not force them, 
united as they are, to your unworthy terms of submission. 
It is impossible. And when I hear General Gage censured 
for inactivity, I must retort with indignation on those 
whose intemperate measures and improvident counsels 
have betrayed him into his present situation. His situa- 
tion reminds me, my Lords, of the answer of a French 
general in the civil wars of France — Monsieur Conde, 
opposed to Monsieur Turenne. He was asked how it hap- 
pened that he did not take his adversary prisoner, as he 
was often very near him. ' J'ai peur/ replied Conde, very 
honestly, 'j'ai peur qu'il ne me prenne;' Tm afraid he'll 
take me. 

" When your Lordships look at the papers transmitted 
us from America — when you consider their decency, 
firmness, and wisdom, you can not but respect their cause, 
and wish to make it your own. For myself, I must declare 
and avow, that in all my reading and observation — and 
it has been my favorite study — I have read Thucydides, 
and have studied and admired the master-states of the 
world — that for solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, 
and wisdom of conclusion, under such a complication of 
difficult circumstances, no nation or body of men can 
stand in preference to the general Congress at Philadel- 
phia. I trust it is obvious to your Lordships that all at- 
tempts to impose servitude upon such men, to establish 
despotism over such a mighty continental nation, must be 



LORD CHATHAM. 99 

vain, must be fatal. We shall be forced ultimately to 
retract ; let us retract while we can, not when we must. 
I say we must necessarily undo these violent, oppressive 
acts.* They must be repealed. You will repeal them. I 
pledge myself for it, that you will, in the end, r^neal 
them. I stake my reputation on it. I will consent to be 
taken for an idiot if they are not finally repealed.! Avoid, 
then, this humiliating, disgraceful necessity. 

" Every motive, therefore, of justice and of policy, of 
dignity and of prudence, urges you to allay the ferment 
in America, by a removal of your troops from Boston, 
by a repeal of your acts of Parliament, and by demonstra- 
tion of amicable dispositions toward your colonies. On 
the other hand, every danger and every hazard impend, 
to deter you from perseverance in your present ruinous 
measures; — foreign war hanging over your heads by a 
slight and brittle thread, — France and Spain watching 
your conduct, and waiting for the maturity of your 
errors. 

" To conclude, my Lords, if the ministers thus persevere 
in misadvising and misleading the King, I will not say 
that they can alienate the affections of his subjects from 
his crown, but I will affirm, that they will make the crown 
not worth his wearing. I will not say that the King is 
betrayed, but I will pronounce that the kingdom is undone!" 

After a long debate, the motion was lost by a vote of 
68 to 18. Dr. Franklin, who was present at the debate, 
and listened to Chatham's speech, said that " he had 
seen, in the course of his life, sometimes eloquence 
without wisdom, and often wisdom without eloquence j in 

* The Boston Port Bill, and the act taking away the charter of Massa- 
chusetts. 

t This prediction of Lord Chatham was verified. After three years 1 fruitless 
war, a repeal of these acts was sent out to propitiate the colonists, but it was 
too late. 



100 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the present instance, he saw both united, and both, as he 
thought, in the highest degree possible." 

On the 30th of Mslj, 1777, Lord Chatham made another 
powerful speech in favor of America. For more than two 
years the great statesman had been prevented by his in- 
firmities from taking his seat in Parliament. But he was 
anxious to make one effort more for ending the war with 
America, and came into the House of Lords, swathed in 
flannel, and supported on crutches, to move an address to 
the King, recommending that speedy and effectual meas- 
ures be taken to put an end to hostilities in America. 

" My Lords," said he, " this is a flying moment; perhaps 
but six weeks left to arrest the dangers that surround us. 
The gathering storm may break ; it has already opened, 
and in part burst;" and again, " You may ravage — you 
can not conquer — it is impossible — you can not conquer 
the Americans. You talk, my Lords, of your numerous 
friends among them to annihilate the Congress, and of 
your powerful forces to disperse their army. / might as 
well talk of driving them before me with this crutch /" 

The greatest effort of Lord Chatham, was his speech on 
a motion for an address to the Throne, delivered in the 
House of Lords, November 18, 1777. He was now sinking 
under the weight of years and disease-— his sun was cast- 
ing its last rays- -the shades of night were gathering 
around him, yet the splendor of his oratory shone with 
purer luster than it perhaps ever did before; his venerable 
form became animated by all the fire of youth, — his lan- 
guage, his tone, his gesture, his whole manner, were such 
as might have awed the world, and made tyrants tremble 
on their thrones. " It would, indeed, be difficult," says 
Prof. Goodrich, " to find in the whole range of parlia- 
mentary history, a more splendid blaze of genius, at once 
rapid, vigorous, and sublime." 

As the orator proceeded w itli his speech he broke forth 



LORD CHATHAM. 101 

into the following lofty strain of eloquence: "You can 
not, I venture to say it, you can not conquer America, Your 
armies in the last war effected every thing that could be 
effected; and what was it? It cost a numerous army, un- 
der the command of a most able general [Lord AmherstJ , 
now a noble Lord in this House, a long and laborious 
campaign, to expel five thousand Frenchmen from French 
America- My Lords, you can not conquer America. What 
is your present situation there? We do not know the 
worst; but we know that in three campaigns we have 
done nothing and suffered much. Besides the sufferings, 
perhaps total loss of the Northern force,* the best appointed 
army that ever took the field, commanded by Sir W r illiam 
Howe, has retired from the American lines. He was obliged 
to relinquish his attempt, and with great delay and danger 
to adopt a new and distant plan of operations. We shall 
soon know, and in any event have reason to lament, what 
may have happened since. As to conquest, therefore, my 
Lords, I repeat, it is impossible. You may swell every 
expense and" every effort still more extravagantly; pile and 
accumulate every assistance you can buy or borrow; — 
traffic and barter with every little pitiful German prince 
that sells and sends his subjects to the shambles of a for- 
eign prince; your efforts are forever vain and impotent — 
doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for 
it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your 
enemies, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of 

* Under General Burgoyne. This prediction of the total loss of General 
Burgoyne r s army was too faithfully verified. While advancing from Canada 
to support the operations of General Howe, who was marching on Philadelphia, 
he was compelled hy the Americans, under General Gates, to surrender his 
whole army, by a convention concluded at Saratoga, October 16, 1777. The 
intelligence of this defeat did not reach England until the beginning of De 
cember. 



102 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions 
to the rapacity of hireling cruelty ! If I were an Ameri- 
can, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was 
landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — 
nevei never — never !" 

Lord Suffolk, in the course of this debate, attempted to 
defend the employment of Indians in the American war. 
He contended that, besides its policy and necessity, the 
measure was also allowable on principle; for that " it was 
perfectly justifiable to use all the means that God and 
nature put into our hands /" This unnatural remark roused 
Lord Chatham, and drew from his lips some of the severest 
passages, and sublimest bursts of eloquence that can be 
found in the English language 

"I am astonished!" exclaimed Lord Chatham, as he rose, 
" shocked! to hear such principles confessed — to hear 
them avowed in this House, or in this country; — princi- 
ples equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and unchristian ! 

" My Lords, I did not intend to have encroached again 
upon your attention, but I can not repress my indignation. 
I feel myself impelled by every duty. My Lords, we are 
called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian 
men, to protest against such notions standing near the 
Throne, polluting the ear of Majesty. ' That God and 
nature put into our hands ! ' I know not what ideas that 
Lord may entertain of God and nature, but I know that 
such abominable principles are equally abhorrent to reli- 
gion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanc- 
tion of God and nature, to the massacres of the Indian 
scalping-knife — to the cannibal savage, torturing, mur- 
dering, roasting, and eating — literally, my Lords, eating 
the mangled victims of his barbarous battles ! Such hor- 
rible notions shock every precept of religion, divine or 
natural, and every generous feeling of humanity. And, 



LORD CHATHAM. 103 

my Lords, they shock every sentiment of honor; they 
shock me as a lover of honorable war, and a detester of 
murderous barbarity. 

" These abominable principles, and this more abomina- 
ble avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. 
I call upon that right reverend bench, those holy ministers 
of the gospel, and pious pastors of our church — I conjure 
them to join in the holy work, and vindicate the religion 
of their God. I appeal to the wisdom and the law of this 
learned bench, to defend and support the justice of their 
country. I call upon the Bishops, to interpose the unsul- 
lied sanctity of their lawn; upon the learned Judges, to 
interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this 
pollution. I call upon the honor of your Lordships, to 
reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and to maintain 
your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my 
country to vindicate the national character. I invoke the 
genius of the Constitution. From the tapestry that adorns 
these walls, the immortal ancestor of this noble Lord 
frowns with indignation at the disgrace of his country.* 
In vain he led your victorious fleets against the boasted 
Armada of Spain; in vain he defended and established 
the honor, the liberties, the religion — the Protestant reli- 
gion — of this country, against the arbitrary cruelties of 
popery and the Inquisition, if these more than popish 
cruelties and inquisitorial practices are let loose among 
us — to turn forth into our settlements, among our ancient 
connections, friends, and relations, the merciless cannibal 
thirsting for the blood of man, woman, and child ! to send 
forth the infidel savage— against whom? against your Pro- 
testant brethren; to lay waste their country, — to desolate 
their dwellings, and extirpate their race and names with 

* " The tapestry of the House of Lords represented the English fleet led 
by the ship of the lord admiral, Effingham Howard (ancestor of Suffolk), to 
engage the Spanish Armada." 



104 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

these horrible hell-hounds of savage war, — hell-hounds, 1 
say, of savage war! Spain armed herself with blood- 
hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of America, and 
we improve on the inhuman example even of Spanish 
cruelty; — we turn loose these savage hell-hounds against 
our brethren and countrymen in America, of the same 
language, laws, liberties and religion, endeared to us by 
every tie that should sanctify humanity. 

" My Lords, this awful subject, so important to our honor, 
our Constitution, and our religion, demands the most 
solemn and effectual inquiry. And I again call upon your 
Lordships, and the united powers of the state, to examine 
it thoroughly and decisively, and to stamp upon it an in- 
delible stigma of the public abhorrence. And I again 
implore those holy prelates of our religion to do away 
these iniquities from among us. Let them perform a lus- 
tration; — let them purify this House, and this country, 
from this sin. 

" My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to 
say more; but my feelings and indignation were too strong 
to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my 
bed, nor reposed my head on my pillow, without giving 
this vent to my eternal abhorrence of such preposterous 
and enormous principles!" 

On the 7th of April, 1778, Lord Chatham made his 
appearance, for the last time, in the House of Lords. It 
is a day memorable for the occurrence of one of the most 
affecting scenes ever witnessed in Parliament — a day when 
the great master of modern oratory was overwhelmed by 
the effort of his own powerful eloquence. 

Lord Chatham was ignorant of the real state of feeling 
in America. He imagined that the colonies might be 
brought back to their former allegiance to the British gov- 
ernment. He did not wish to see the extensive dominion 
of old England rent in twain, and the Independence of 



LORD CHATHAM. 1 05 

America recognized He could not endure these thoughts. 
He therefore heard " with unspeakable concern " that the 
Duke of Richmond intended, on the 7th of April, to move 
an address to the king, advising him to effect a conciliation 
with America, involving her independence. Such a mea- 
sure he thought was disastrous and ruinous to the pros- 
perity and happiness of England. He determined to take 
a bold stand against it, and accordingly, was carried to the 
House of Lords, to raise his voice against the dismember- 
ment of the empire. " He was led into the House of Peers 
by his son, the Honorable William Pitt, and his son-in-law, 
Lord Mahon. He was dressed in a rich suit of black 
velvet, and covered up to the knees in flannel. Within 
his large wig, little more of his countenance was seen than 
his aquiline nose, and his penetrating eye, which retained 
all its native tire. He looked like a dying man, yet never 
was seen a figure of more dignity. He appeared like a 
being of a superior species. The Lords stood up and 
made a lane for him to pass to his seat, while, with a grace- 
fulness of deportment for which he w T as so eminently dis- 
tinguished, he bowed to them as he proceeded. Having 
taken his seat, he listened with profound attention to the 
Duke of Richmond's speech." When Lord Weymouth 
had finished his reply in behalf of the ministry, Lord 
Chatham rose with slowness and great difficulty, and de- 
livered the following speech. " Supported by his two 
relations, he lifted his hand from the crutch on which he 
leaned, raised it up, and, casting his eyes toward heaven, 
commenced as follows .:" 

" I thank God that I have been enabled to come here 
to-day — to perform my duty, and speak on a subject which 
is so deeply impressed on my mind. I am old and infirm. 
I have one foot — more than one foot — in the grave. I 
have risen from my bed to stand up in the cause of my 

country — perhaps never again to speak in this House." 
14 



LOG OR ATORS AND STATESMEN. 

|" The reverence, the attention, the stillness of the 
House," said an eye witness, " were here most affecting: 
had any one dropped a handkerchief, the noise would have 
been heard."] 

" As he proceeded, Lord Chatham spoke at first in a low 
tone, with all the weakness of one who is laboring under 
severe indisposition. Gradually, however, as he warmed 
with the subject, his voice became louder and more dis- 
tinct, his intonations grew more commanding, and his 
whole manner was solemn and impressive in the highest 
degree." 

" My Lords," he exclaimed, " I rejoice that the grave 
has not closed upon me; that I am still alive, to lift up 
my voice against the dismemberment of this ancient and 
most noble monarchy! Pressed down as I am by the hand 
of infirmity, I am little able to assist my country in this 
most perilous conjuncture; but, my Lords, while I have 
sense and memory, I will never consent to depiive the 
offspring of the royal house of Brunswick, the heirs of 
the Princess Sophia, of their fairest inheritance. Shall 
we tarnish the luster of this nation by an ignominious 
surrender of its rights and fairest possessions? Shall this 
great nation, that has survived, whole and entire, the 
Danish depredations, the Scottish inroads, the Norman 
conquest — that has stood the threatened invasion of the 
Spanish Armada, now fall prostrate before the house of 
Bourbon? Surely, my Lords, this nation is no longer what 
it was ! Shall a people that seventeen years ago was the 
terror of the world, now stoop so low as to tell its ancient 
inveterate enemy, Take all we have, only give us peace? It 
is impossible." 

" In God's name, if it is absolutely necessary to declare 
either for peace or war, and the former can not be preserved 
with honor, why is not the latter commenced without delay? 
1 am not, I confers, well-informed as to the resources of 



LORD CHATHAM. 107 

this kingdom, but I trust it has still sufficient to maintain 
its just rights, though I know them not. But, my Lords, 
any state is better than despair. Let us at least make one 
effort, and, if we must fall, let us fall like men !" 

When Lord Chatham had taken his seat Lord Temple 
said to him, " You have forgotten to mention what we 
have been talking about. Shall I get up?" " No," replied 
Lord Chatham " / will do it by-and-by." 

After the Duke of Richmond had concluded his speech, 
Lord Chatham made a strenuous attempt to rise; but after 
repeated efforts, to regain an erect position, he suddenly 
pressed his hand to his heart, and fell down in convulsions. 
The Duke of Cumberland, Lord Temple, Lord Stanford 
and other peers, caught him in their arms,- and his son, 
the celebrated William Pitt, then a youth of seventeen, 
sprang forward to support him.* The debate was imme- 
diately adjourned. Lord Chatham was conveyed in a state 
of insensibility from the House to his country residence at 
Hayes, where he lingered a few days, and expired on the 
11th of May, 1778, aged seventy years. 

As Demosthenes and Cicero are allowed to have been 
the greatest orators of which antiquity can boast, so Lord 
Chatham has generally been regarded as the most brilliant 
and powerful senatorial orator of modern times. Cer- 
tainly, no political speaker, since the days of the Grecian 
and Roman masters, ever controlled a j)opular assembly 

* " It is this moment which Copley has chosen for his picture of the death 
of Lord Chatham." " History," says an able writer, " has no nobler scene to 
show than that which now occupied the House of Lords. The unswerving 
patriot, whose long life had been devoted to his country, had striven to the 
last. The aristocracy of the land stood around, and even the brother of the 
sovereign thought himself honored in being one of his supporters ; party enmi- 
ties were remembered no more; every other feeling was lost in admiration of 
the great spirit which seemed to be passing away from among them." 

Seventy years afterwards, a similar scene was witnessed in the halls of the 
American Capitol, when the venerable JohnQutncy Adams experienced the 



108 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

with such absolute sway as Lord Chatham did, by the 
force of his oratory. His eloquence was irresistible. The 
lire of his eye, the majesty of his countenance, and the 
thunder of his voice, awed an assembly into silence, or 
struck them with terror. 

It is to be regretted that so little of the history and elo- 
quence of this great orator and statesman, has been 
transmitted to our times. An able English critic of the 
present age observes: " There is hardly any man in modern 
times, with the exception, perhaps, of Lord Somers, who 
fills so large a space in our history, and of whom we know 
so little, as Lord Chatham; and yet he is the person to 
whom every one would at once point, if desired to name 
the most successful statesman and most brilliant orator 
that this country ever produced. It is singular how much 
of Lord Chatham, who flourished within the memory of 
the present generation, still rests upon vague tradition. 
As a statesman, indeed, he is known to us by the events 
which history has recorded to have happened under his 
administration. Yet even of his share in bringing these 
about, little has been preserved of detail. So, fragments 
of his speeches have been handed down to us, but these 
bear so very small a proportion to the prodigious fame 
which his eloquence has left behind it, that far more is 
manifestly lost than has reached us; while of his written 

stroke which soon terminated his earthly career. That touching scene will 
never be forgotten by those who were its eye-witnesses. On the 21st of Feb- 
ruary, 184S, Mr. Adams entered the hall of the House of Representatives for 
the last time. Like Chatham, he was found faithful at his post, serving his 
country, when his spirit " plumed its pinions to soar to other worlds.' 1 "This 
is the last of earth!" said the dying statesman, in faltering accents, " I AM 
content I" What an impressive subject for contemplation — the death of Lord 
Chatham, and John Quincy Adams! 

For a faithful and interesting sketch of the life and public services of the 
great American statesman, the reader is referred to his biography by the Hon. 
William H. Sewaid. 



LORD CHATHAM. 109 

compositions, but a few letters have hitherto been given to 
the world." 

An American reviewer states with equal beauty and cor- 
rectness, that, in the British nation. " The era of Parlia- 
mentary Eloquence can be dated back no farther than the 
time of the elder Pitt. Regular reporting indeed did not 
begin until after his day. All that we have of his speeches, 
we owe to the occasional and necessarily meager sketches 
of members and spectators. Still the eloquence of Chat- 
ham formed an epoch in the annals of the art. No one fa- 
miliar with the public and private memoirs of that period 
can doubt that he was the most effective speaker of modern 
times. But what was the secret of that efficiency? We 
contemplate with vain regret the scantiness of his remains, 
and the few materials we have for satisfying our curiosity. 
Yet even in these we find passages which give us a vivid 
sense of his ability; passages of more than Demosthenian 
fire, which must live as long as the language in which 
they were uttered. Still there is nothing to justify us in 
the belief that his speeches ever exhibited that broad, 
luminous, philosophical range of thought, which we find 
often in Cicero, and almost always in Burke. There can 
be no doubt that he was greatly indebted to his manner. 
In his exterior he lacked nothing which nature could give. 
We are told that he was in look and action, both graceful 
and dignified; but that dignity was the predominant fea- 
ture His countenance was wonderfully expressive. His 
eye, when directed in anger, or scorn, had a penetrating 
and insufferable brightness, which most men found as 
difficult to meet, as they would to have gazed at the cloud- 
less sun. His voice had great sweetness, power and variety 
of intonation, and was employed through its whole range, 
from the lowest whisper, distictly audible, to its highest 
point of loudness and key, when it filled and electrified 
the House. His diction was simple and select, and he 



110 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

spared no pains to chasten and enrich it. Add now, to 
these advantages, his energy and weight of character, the 
universal impression of his immense talents, produced by 
his vigorous and successful administration, even more than 
by his oratorical efforts; and we may have some faint con- 
ceptions of what Chatham was, and shall wonder less, 
that 'rebuked by the presence of higher qualities,' pride 
and wealth, and rank, and power, quailed beneath the 
lightnings of his eye, and the thunders of his voice. 

To our countrymen the fame of Chatham has always 
been dear. They had contributed to the triumphs and felt 
the benefits of his ministerial career. And when, at 
length, other counsels prevailed; when those colonies 
which he had fostered with a father's care, became the 
objects of step-motherly oppression; his mighty voice was 
still raised in their behalf. He was indeed a great and 
fortunate name; and we scarcely know that other which 
we would put in its place, in those beautiful and well- 
known words of his pious countryman: 

' Tis praise enough 
To fill the ambition of a common man 
That Chatham's language was his mother tongue. 1 " 

So little is known, at this day, of the eloquence of Lord 
Chatham, that it would be impossible to present a critical 
analysis of his character as an orator. We shall merely 
mention some of the characteristics of that oratory, which 
for its wonderful effects has, perhaps, surpassed any that 
has been displayed since the palmy days of Greece or 
Rome. 

" All other modern orators,, and almost all ancient ones, 
seem dwarfed by comparison with him. Perhaps Mirabeau 
among the moderns comes nearest to him. Demades 
among the ancients possibly equaled him. I, of course, 
always except Demosthenes, the perfect, the unapproacha- 
ble in every branch of eloquence." 



LORD CHATHAM. 1 1 1 

The testimony of Ms contemporaries will give us some 
Taint conceptions of Lord Chatham's oratory ; and one of 
the most animated descriptions of this kind, which we 
present, is from the pen of Mr. Boyd, a gentleman of high 
literary attainments, who had often listened to the impas- 
sioned eloquence of the great English statesman, and who 
could best describe its w r onderful characteristics. It was 
written in 1779, — one year after the death of the orator; 
and is as follows: 

" Of all the characteristic features, by which his oratory 
was distinguishd, none was more eminent than the bold 
purity and classical force of phraseology. 

" Those who have been witness to the wonders of his 
eloquence — who have listened to the music of his voice, 
or trembled at its majesty — who have seen the persuasive 
gracefulness of his action, or have felt its force; — those 
who have caught the flame of eloquence from his eye — 
who have rejoiced at the glories of his countenance — or 
shrunk from his frowns — will remember the resistless 
power with which he impressed conviction. In these 
sketches of his original genius, they will read what they 
have heretofore heard; and their memory will give due 
action to the picture, by refiguring to their minds what 
they have with admiration seen. But to those who never 
heard nor saw this accomplished orator, the utmost effort 
of imagination will be necessary to form a just idea of 
that combination of excellence, which gave perfection to 
his eloquence, — his elevated aspect, commanding the awe 
and mute attention of all who beheld him; whilst a certain 
grace in his manner, conscious of all the dignities of his 
situation, and of the solemn scene he acted in, as well as 
his own exalted character, seemed to acknowledge and 
repay the respect he received: — his venerable form, bowed 
with infirmity of age; but animated by a mind which 
nothing could subdue: — his spirit shining through him; 



112 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

arming his eye with lightning, and clothing his lips with 
thunder;* or, if milder topics offered, harmonizing his 
countenance in smiles, and his voice in softness; — for the 
compass of his powers was infinite. As no idea was too 
vast, no imagination too sublime, for the grandeur and 
majesty of his manners; so no fancy was too playful, 
nor any allusion too comic for the ease and gaiety with 
which he could accommodate to the occasion. But the 
character of his oratory was dignity; this presided through- 
out; giving force, because securing respect, even to his 
sallies of pleasantry. This elevated the most familiar 
language, and gave novelty and grace to the most familiar 
allusions; so that in his hand, even the crutch became a 
weapon of oratory." 

Rev. Francis Thackeray, in his excellent life of Chatham, 
says, when drawing his character, " The claims of Cicero 
and Demosthenes as orators, are not, upon the whole, I 
think, superior to those of Lord Chatham. Promptitude 
is, perhaps, as essential to eloquence as to wit. In this 
respect the Briton has a right to precedence. The labor 
bestowed by Demosthenes upon his orations is become 
proverbial, and the exquisite polish of Cicero's speeches 
are proofs of the time devoted to their composition. But 
Lord Chatham was ever ready for debate, and some of the 
grandest efforts of his eloquence were called forth by the 
circumstances of the moment. Nor were the occasions 
which offered themselves to Lord Chatham so favorable to 
the display of eloquence as those in which the most splen- 

'* A distinguished writer of our day beautifully remarks: " If there be one 
attribute of man supreme in dignity and worth, it is that of oratory. The 
illusions of the eye, combined with the enchanting power of music, constitute 
an influence less potent upon the imagination and will, than the spirit-stirring 
appeals of ' eloquence divine. 1 Other charms are mostly drawn from the ex- 
ternal world, but this emanates from the unseen spirit within; its splendors 
gleam through animated clay and proclaim the superior majesty of immortal 
mind.' ' — Maroon . 



LORD CHATHAM. 113 

did speeches of Demosthenes and Cicero originated. No 
opportunity during the life of Lord Chatham was so much 
calculated to excite the powers of an orator as that which 
Philip and Catiline respectively afforded to Demosthenes 
and Cicero. 

" Lord Chatham's eloquence was peculiar, distinct, and 
unrivaled. Occasionally wild and extravagant, it was at 
all times bold, nervous, and impassioned. Many speakers 
have surpassed him in smoothness of expression, correct- 
ness of language, and subtilty of argument, but none, 
perhaps, ever obtained such an ascendency over his hear- 
ers. He possessed a species of oratory by which he was 
wont to strike his adversaries dumb, and against which no 
arguments could avail." 

The most wonderful quality of Lord Chatham's eloquence 
was the fascinating manner in which it was displayed. In 
his delivery, force and majesty were combined. They 
were its prevailing characteristics. In this respect, Lord 
Chatham exhibited in the highest degree the principles 
of true eloquence; the leading qualities of which are 
force and dignity. Much of the force of his eloquence 
arose from the fire of his eye and the majesty of his fea- 
tures. When he arose to speak, his venerable countenance 
was animated by an expression of dignity and greatness 
that inspired respect, reverence, and admiration in the 
hearts of all.* 

A sudden glance of the eye greatly assists an orator in 
adding force and animation to his eloquence. The eye of 
Lord Chatham was his most wonderful feature. Its fiery 
glare was too powerful for his antagonists to bear. By a 
single glance of scorn or contempt, which beamed from 

* As to his person, nature had stamped more forcibly on no man the im- 
pression of an orator. His figure was tall and manly, and the ordinary spec- 
tator was struck with the grace and dignity of his look and deportment." — 
Thackeray. 

15 



Ill ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

that eye, they were often overwhelmed with terror, and 
thrown into confusion in the midst of their own speeches.* 
A clear, deep, full and melodious voice, is an invaluable 
quality for an orator. Such a voice had Lord Chatham. 
" It was both full and clear. His lowest whisper was dis- 
tinctly heard; his middle notes were sweet and beautifully 
varied; and, when he elevated his voice to its highest 
pitch, the House was completely filled with the volume 
of sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished 
to cheer or animate; then he had spirit-stirring notes 
which were perfectly irresistible." No orator, perhaps, 
ever had a better control of his voice than Lord Chatham. 
He could vary it instantaneously, when necessary to pro- 
duce a striking effect. He could do this apparently with- 
out the least effort. He would often suddenly rise from 
the lowest whispers to the loudest tones. His voice was 
both musical and sonorous; and to its proper exercise — 
its varied notes — its melodious sound — its majestic 
thunder — was owing, in a great measure, his success in 
oratory. 



f The following oratorical sketch "by the celebrated John Wilkes, wno was 
contemporary with Chatham, and a member of the English Parliament, is 
worthy of our notice here: 

u Lord Chatham was born an orator, and from nature possessed every out- 
ward requisite to bespeak respect, and even awe. A manly figure, with the 
eagle eye of the famous Conde, fixed your attention, and almost commanded 
reverence the moment he appeared; and the keen lightning of his eye spoke 
the high respect of his soul before his lips had pronounced a syllable. There 
was a kind of fascination in his look when he eyed any one askance. Nothing 
could withstand the force of that contagion. The fluent Murray 1 has faltered, 
and even Fox 2 shrunk back appalled from an adversary c fraught with fire 
unquenchable,' if I may borrow the expression of our great Milton. He had 
not the correctness of language so striking in the great Roman orator, but he 
had the verba ardentia, the bold, glowing words." 

1 Lord Mansfield. 2 Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland. 



LORD CHATHAM. 115 

The action of Lord Chatham, like that of the great 
Athenian orator, was perfectly suited to the nature of the 
sublimest eloquence. It was forcible and animated, — 
graceful and vehement, — on many occasions, as Lord 
Orford observes, worthy of Garrick himself. By means 
of his action alone, he produced some of the most aston- 
ishing effects. 

The force of Lord Chatham's eloquence arose partly 
from a lively imagination and partly from a -sympathetic 
soul. A vigorous and lofty imagination is among the 
prominent characteristics of an accomplished orator. The 
imagination of Chatham was of this cast; and it contri- 
buted in a high degree to form his character as the greatest 
of modern orators. 

" It is this faculty which exalts/brce into the truest and 
most sublime eloquence. In this respect, Chatham ap- 
proached more nearly than any speaker of modern times, 
to the great master of Athenian art." Burke had more 
imagination, but, wild and irregular, it was almost con- 
stantly on the wing, " circling around the subject, as if to 
display the grace of its movements, or the beauty of its 
plumage;" while that of Chatham "flew an eagle flight, 
forth and right on." It struck directly at its object. 

The intellect of Lord Chatham as well as his eloquence, 
was of the very highest order. His capacious mind em- 
braced the widest range of thought, comprehended the 
most complicated subject almost at a single glance, grasped 
it with the greatest vigor, and held it with unrelenting 
firmness. 

In his grandest exclamations, Lord Chatham was actuated 
by sympathy. In this manner he achieved some of his 
greatest oratorical triumphs. By the spell of his match- 
less eloquence poured from a sympathizing souL glowing 
with its subject, he exercised an uncontrollable sway over 



116 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

a popular assembly.* Says Hazlitt, " The principle by 
which the Earl of Chatham exerted his influence over 
others, was sympathy. He himself evidently had a strong 
passion of his subject, a thorough conviction, an intense 
interest,* and this communicated itself from his manner, 
— from the tones of his voice, — from his commanding 
attitudes, and eager gestures, instinctively and unavoidably, 
to his hearers." 

" The range of his powers as a speaker was uncommonly 
wide. He was equally qualified to conciliate and subdue. 
When he saw fit, no man could be more plausible and 
ingratiating; no one had ever a more winning address, or 
was more adroit in obviating objections and allaying pre- 
judice. When he changed his tone, and chose rather to 
subdue, he had the sharpest and most massy weapons at 
command — wit, humor, irony, overwhelming ridicule and 
contempt. His forte was the terrible; and he employed 
with equal ease the indirect mode of attack with which he 
so often tortured Lord Mansfield, and the open, withering 
invective with which he trampled down Lord Suffolk. 

* We subjoin a glowing description of Chatham's eloquence by the second 
Lord Lyttleton. 

' : The two principal orators of the present age (and one of them, perhaps, a 
greater than has been produced in any age), are, the Earls of Mansfield and 
Chatham. The former is a great man; Ciceronian, but, I should think inferior 
to Cicero : the latter is a greater man ; Demosthenian, but superior to Demos- 
thenes. The first formed himself on the model of the great Roman orator; he 
studied, translated, rehearsed, and acted his orations: the second disdained 
imitation, and was himself a model of eloquence, of which no idea can he 
formed, but by those who have seen and heard him. His words have some- 
times frozen my young blood into stagnation, and sometimes made it pace 
with such a hurry through my veins, that I could scarce support it. He, 
however, embellished his ideas by classical amusements, and occasionally read 
the sermons of Barrow, which he considered as a mine of nervous expressions ; 
but, not content to correct and instruct imagination by the works of mortal 
men, he borrowed his noblest images from the language of inspiration. 1 ' — 
Letters, p. 172. 



LORD CHATHAM. H7 

His burst of astonishment and horror at the proposal of 
the latter to let loose the Indians on the settlers of America, 
is without a parallel in our language for severity and 
force."* 

" His invective," says Lord Brougham, " was unsparing 
and hard to be endured, although he was a less eminent 
master of sarcasm than his son, and rather overwhelmed 
his antagonist with the burst of words and vehement in- 
dignation, than wounded him by the edge of ridicule, or 
tortured him with the gall of bitter scorn, or fixed his 
arrow in the wound by the barb of epigram. These things 
seemed, as it were, to betoken too much labor and too 
much art — more labor than was consistent with absolute 
scorn — more art than could stand with heartfelt rage, or 
entire contempt inspired by the occasion, at the moment, 
and on the spot. But his great passages — those by which 
he has come down to us — those which gave his eloquence 
its peculiar character, and to which its dazzling success 
was owing, were as sudden and unexpected as they were 
natural. Every one was taken by surprise when they 
rolled forth — every one felt them to be so natural, that 
he could hardly understand why he had not thought of 
them himself, although into no one's imagination had they 
ever entered. If the quality of being natural without 

* The following is a graphic sketch of Chatham by Henry Grattan : 
" Chatham was a man of great genius, great flight of mind. His imagina- 
tion was astonishing. I heard him several times when I was at the Temple — 
on the American war, on the King's speech in 1770, and on the privileges of 
Parliament. He was very great and very odd. He spoke in a style of conversa- 
tion, not, however, what I expected: it was not a speech, for he never came 
with a prepared harangue. His style was not regular oratory, like Cicero or 
Demosthenes, but it was very fine and very elevated. He appeared more like 
a grave character advising than mingling in the debate. His gesture wag 
always graceful; he was an incomparable actor. Had it not been so, it would, 
have appeared ridiculous. His address to the tapestry and to Lord Effingham's 
memory required a fine actor, and he was that actor." 



118 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

being obvious is a pretty correct description of felicitous 
expression, or what is called fine writing, it is a yet more 
accurate representation of fine passages, or felicitous hits 
in speaking. In these all popular assemblies take bound- 
less delight; by these above all others are the minds of 
an audience at pleasure moved or controlled. They form 
the grand charm of Lord Chatham's oratory; they were 
the distinguishing excellence of his great predecessor, and 
gave him at will to wield the fierce democracy of Athens, 
and to fulmine over Greece. 5 ' 

It is said that on many occasions, the sentences of 
Chatham were delivered with such remarkable emphasis 
that a thrill of astonishment was produced throughout the 
House, accompanied by breathless silence. 

His eloquence was of the very highest order — bold, 
nervous, vehement, impassioned- — it rolled onward like 
an impetuous torrent, " peculiar and spontaneous, famil- 
iarly expressing gigantic sentiments and instinctive wis- 
dom — not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid 
conflagration of Tully, it resembled, sometimes the thun- 
der, and sometimes the music of the spheres. Like Murray 
[Lord Mansfield] , he did not conduct the understanding 
through the painful subtilty of argumentation; nor was 
he, like Townsend, forever on the rack of exertion, but 
rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point 
by the flashings of his mind, which, like those of his eye, 
were felt, but could not be followed." 

, Lord Chatham was an extemporaneous speaker. His 
memory w T as strong and retentive. His mind was richly 
stored with information on every subject, and he was 
always ready for debate. In this respect he excelled De- 
mosthenes and Cicero, whose orations were prepared with 
immense labor, previous to their delivery. Unlike the 
ancient orators, Chatham often " poured out his thoughts 
and feelings just as they rose in his mind." 



LORD CHATHAM. 119 

Promptitude is essential to success in debate or declama- 
tion. Here Lord Chatham equaled, if not surpassed all 
other orators. Some of his grandest efforts were called 
forth by the occurrence of unexpected circumstances, or 
a sudden glance of the eye. In his reply to Lord Suffolk, 
he caught a single glance at the tapestry which adorned 
the walls, around him, and one " flash of his genius gave 
us the most magnificent passage in our eloquence. His 
highest power lay in these sudden bursts of passion."* 

A distinguished eye-witness of some of his oratorical dis- 
plays thus writes: " When without forethought, or any other 
preparation than those talents which nature had supplied 
and education cultivated, Chatham rose — stirred to anger 
by some sudden subterfuge of corruption or device of 
tyranny — then was heard an eloquence never surpassed 
either in ancient or in modern times. It was the highest 
power of expression ministering to the highest power of 
thought." 

The same writer adds: " That he was the most powerful 
orator that ever illustrated and ruled the senate of this 
empire — that for nearly half a century, he was not 
merely the arbiter of the destinies of his own country, but 
the foremost man in all the world — that he had an un- 
paralleled grandeur and affluence of intellectual powers, 
softened and brightened by all the minor accomplish- 
ments — that his ambition was noble — his views instinct- 
ively elevated — his patriotism all but excessive — that in 
all the domestic relations of life he was exemplary and 
amiable — a fine scholar, a finished gentleman, a sincere 
Christian — one whom his private friends and servants 

* "' Sudden bursts which seemed to be the effect of inspiration — short 
sentences which came like lightning, dazzling, burning, striking down every 
thing before them — sentences which spoken at critical moments, decided the 
fate of great questions — sentences which at once became proverbs — sentences 
which everybody still knows by heart ' — in these chiefly lay the oratorical 
power of Mirabeau and Chatham, Tatrick Henry and James Otis." 



120 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

loved as a good man, and all the world admired as a great 
one — these are the praises which his contemporaries 
awarded, and which posterity has, with little diminution, 
confirmed." 

We have noticed several of those sublime passages. 
which occur in the speeches of Chatham. We mention 
one more — perhaps the finest specimen of his eloquence 
that has come down to us. When Lord Bute was 
compelled to increase the revenues of Britain in order to 
obtain means for carrying on the war with France, he 
introduced a bill subjecting cider to an excise. " An 
Excise Bill has always been odious to the English. It 
brings with it the right of search. It lays open the private 
dwelling, which every Englishman has been taught to 
regard as his ' castle.' ' You give to the dipping-rod,' said 
one, arguing against such a law, ' what you deny to the 
scepter !' Mr. Pitt laid hold of this feeling, and opposed 
the bill with his utmost strength." His speech was not 
reported. All that remains of it, is a single passage, which 
will go down to the most distant posterity. " The poorest 
man" exclaimed Mr. Pitt, " may in his cottage bid defiance 
to all the forces of the Crown. It may be frail — its roof 
may shake — the wind may blow through it — the storm may 
enter — the rain may enter — but the King of England can 
not enter! — all his forces dare not cross the threshold of the 
ruined tenement!"* 

* It was by the repetition of this passage, applied to the spiritual independence 
of the Church, that Dr. Chalmers produced such an electric effect in one of his 
London Lectures, in defense of Religious Establishments. When the eloquent 
man came to these words, being in a sitting attitude, he sprang tmconsciously 
to his feet, and delivered them with such overwhelming power, that, when he 
uttered the words " the King can not — the King dare not " — the entire audi- 
ence imitated his movement and rose to their feet." 

" The words, the King can not — the King dare not," says an eye-witness, 
were uttered in accents of prophetic vehemence, that must still ring in the 
ears of all who heard them, and were responded to by a whirlwind of enthu- 
siasm, which was probably never exceeded in the history of eloquence." 



LORD CHATHAM. 121 

" Upon the whole," we may say in the glowing words of 
Grattan, " there was in this man something that could 
create, subvert, or reform; an understanding, a spirit, and 
an eloquence to summon mankind to society, or to break 
the bonds of slavery asunder, and rule the wildness of 
free minds with unbounded authority; — something that 
could establish or overwhelm empire, and strike a blow in 
the world that should resound through its history." 

We shall close this brief and imperfect sketch of the 
immortal Lord Chatham with the following lines of 
Cowper: 

" Not so — the virtue still adorns our age 
Though the chief actor died upon the stage. 
In him Demosthenes was heard again. 
Liberty taught him her Athenian strain, 
She cloth'd him with authority and awe, 
Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law. 
His speech, his form, his action, full of grace, 
And all his country beaming in his face, 
He stood, as some inimitable hand 
Would strive to make a Paul or Tully stand. 
No sycophant or slave, that dar'd oppose 
Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose, 
And ev'ry venal stickler for the yoke 
Felt himself crush'd at the first word he spoie.** 

1G 



CHAPTER IV. 



EDMUND BURKE. 

Edmund Burke was born in Dublin, on the 1st of Janu- 
ary, 1730. Of his early history very little is known, 
except that he was of a delicate and consumptive habit, 
and, while at school, gave no peculiar promise of his 
future greatness. It is said, however, that, during his 
youthful years, he exhibited his extraordinary powers of 
memory, and the exuberance of his fancy. 

In 1744, at the age of fourteen, he entered Trinity Col- 
lege, Dublin, where he remained six years, pursuing a 
regular course of severe study. When he left the Univer- 
sity his mind was well stored with knowledge. As to his 
course of reading during his college life, we have the fol- 
lowing account: " He had mastered most of the great 
writers of antiquity Demosthenes was his favorite orator, 
though he was led in after life, by the bent of his genius, 
to form himself on the model of Cicero, whom he more 
resembled in magnificence and copiousness of thought. 
He delighted in Plutarch. He read most of the great poets 
of antiquity; and was peculiarly fond of Virgil, Horace, 
and Lucretius, a large part of whose writings he committed 
to memory- In English he read the essays of Lord Bacon 
again and again with increasing admiration, and pro- 
nounced them ' the greatest works of that great man. ; 
Shakespeare was his daily study. But his highest rever- 
ence was reserved for Milton, ' whose richness of language, 
boundless learning, and scriptural grandeur of conception,' 




SIE^ITD'.MTF) IBTKEIEIEc 



EDMUND BURKE. 123 

were the first and last themes of his applause. The philo- 
sophical tendency of his mind began now to display itself 
with great distinctness, and became, from this period, the 
master principle of his genius. ' Rerum cognoscere cau- 
sae? seems ever to have been his delight, and soon became 
f d object of all his studies and reflections. He had an 
exquisite sensibility to the beauties of nature, of art, and 
of elegant composition, but he could never rest here. 
' Whence this enjoyment?' On what principle does it de- 
pend?' ' How might it be carried to a still higher point?' 
these are the questions which seem almost from boyhood 
to have occurred instinctively to his mind His attempts 
at philosophical criticism commenced in college, and led 
to his producing one of the most beautiful works of this 
kind to be found in any language. In like manner, history 
to him, even at this early period, was not a mere chronicle 
of events, a picture of battles and sieges, or of life and 
manners; to make it history, it must bind events together 
by the causes which produced them. The science of 
politics and government was in his mind the science of 
man; not a system of arbitrary regulations, or a thing 
of policy and intrigue, but founded on a knowledge of 
those principles, feelings, and even prejudices, which unite 
a people together in one community — ' ties,' as he beauti- 
fully expresses it, ( which though light as air, are strong as 
links of iron.' Such were the habits of thought to which 
his mind was tending even from his college days, and they 
made him pre-eminently the great Philosophical Orator of 
our language." 

In 1750, Mr. Burke commenced the study of law; but 
he was never particularly interested in legal studies, 
and soon afterwards abandoned them for his favorite 
pursuits — those of literature and philosophy. 

In 1756, appeared his first avowed work, entitled tho 
Vindication of Natural Society. This work aims at the 



124 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

overthrow of Lord Bolingbroke's philosophical principles. 
It exposes the unsoundness of the infidel's reasonings and 
the fallacy of his arguments. Applying to civil society 
the mode of reasoning against religion adopted by Boling- 
broke, he undertook in the closest imitation of his 
Lordship's style to expose " the crimes and wretchedness 
which have prevailed under every form of government, 
and thus to show that society is itself an evil, and the 
savage state the only one favorable to virtue and happi- 
ness." 

It is very gratifying to find so great a statesman as 
Burke, in the beginning of his political career, advocating 
the cause of Christianity. He was a firm believer in the 
sublime doctrines of the gospel; and knew perfectly well 
that a general promulgation and universal reception of 
these doctrines were the best means of producing peace, 
order, and happiness in civil society — of advancing the 
cause of education, and of elevating the character of a 
nation. He saw that, if the principles of Bolingbroke 
were carried out in civil society, no government could 
exist; but anarchy, bloodshed and death would be the dire- 
ful consequences. Impressed with these important truths, 
he boldly came forward as the advocate of religion and 
morality; and his name will ever be held in grateful 
remembrance by all those who love the blessed doctrines 
of the Bible. 

Before the close of 1756, Mr. Burke published his cele- 
brated Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. The compo- 
sition of this work is a master-piece; it displays a wonder- 
ful depth of philosophical investigation, — immense ex- 
cursions of genius, — transcendent powers of fancy — rich 
veins of thought, — and surpassing elegance of diction. 

Such a profound philosophical work, coming from the 
pen of so young a man, excited a lively interest among the 
friends of literakire and at once raised its author to a 



EDMUND BURKE. 125 

high position in the literary world. Wherever he went, 
Mr. Burke was greeted with applause as the author of the 
Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful; and his acquaintance 
was sought by the most distinguished literary men of the 
age — such as Goldsmith, Lord Lyttleton, Murphy, Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, Hume, Johnson, and many others. In 
conversation, Burke excelled almost every other man in ease 
and freedom of expression, the display of boundless stores 
of knowledge, and the force and beauty of his language. 

Dr. Johnson, the Colossus of English literature, always 
spoke of him in terms of the highest regard. " Burke," 
said he, " is an extraordinary man. His stream of talk is 
perpetual; and he does not talk from any desire of dis- 
tinction, but because his mind is full." " He is the only 
man," said he, at a later period, when Burke was at the 
zenith of his reputation, " whose common conversation 
corresponds with the general fame which he has in the 
world. Take him up where you please, he is ready to 
meet you." " No man of sense," he said, " could meet 
Burke by accident under a gateway to avoid a shower, 
without being convinced that he was the first man in 
England." A striking confirmation of this remark oc- 
curred some years after, when Mr. Burke was passing 
through Litchfield, the birth-place of Johnson. Wishing 
to see the Cathedral during the change of horses, he 
stepped into the building, and was met by one of the 
clergy of the place, who kindly offered to point out the 
principal objects of curiosity. "A conversation ensued; 
but, in a few moments, the clergyman's pride of local 
information was completely subdued by the copious and 
minute knowledge displayed by the stranger. Whatever 
topic the objects before them suggested, whether the theme 
was architecture or antiquities, some obscure passage in 
ecclesiastical history, or some question respecting the life 
of a saint, he touched it as with a sun-beam. His inform- 



126 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ation appeared universal; his mind, clear intellect, with- 
out one particle of ignorance. A few minutes after their 
separation, the clergyman was met hurrying through the 
street. ' I have had,' said he, ' quite an adventure. I 
have been conversing for this half hour past with a man 
of the most extraordinay powers of mind and extent of 
information which it has ever been my fortune to meet 
with ; and I am now going to the inn, to ascertain, if pos- 
sible, who this stranger is.' " 

The laborious application which the composition of the 
Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful required, considerably 
injured Mr. Burke's health. He was compelled to seek re- 
pose at Bath. Here, he was invited by Dr. Nugent, an 
eminent physician, to his house. The consequence of this 
visit w^ not only the recovery of Mr. Burke's health, but 
a strong attachment between him and the amiable and ac- 
complished daughter of Dr. Nugent. A union for life was 
soon formed. They were married in 1757. This happy 
union, Mr, Burke always regarded as the chief blessing of 
his life. So sweet were the enjoyments of domestic life to 
him, that, as he often said, every care vanished the moment 
he entered beneath his own roof. 

In the same year, 1757, Mr. Burke published, in two 
octavo volumes, An Account of the European Settlements 
in America — a work of which he was the principal, 
though not the sole author. It was perhaps prepared in 
conjunction with his two brothers. The extensive know- 
ledge of the early history of the British colonies which 
Mr. Burke acquired by his researches on this subject, was 
of great advantage to him, nine years after, when he first 
rose before the approaching storm of the American revo- 
lution, and shook the walls of the British senate-house 
with an eloquence that astonished even the greatest speak- 
ers of the age. 

He had closely studied the character of the American 



EDMI'ND BURKE. 127 

people, lie knew that it was impossible to impose servi- 
tude on such a nation, animated, as they were, by an indom- 
itable love of liberty. He was, moreover, a friend of the 
Americans. He loved their cause, heartily espoused it, 
and always remained true to it. When the storm actually 
burst on our beloved country, he came forward as the ad- 
vocate of an oppressed nation, as the champion of free- 
dom — came forward " with those rich stores of knowledge, 
and those fine trains of reasoning, conceived in the truest 
spirit of philosophy, which astonished and delighted, 
though they failed to convince, the Parliament of Great 
Britain." 

In 1765, Mr. Burke fully entered on his political career. 
The administration of Lord Rockingham was now formed, 
and, through the kindness of the new minister, M$. Burke 
obtained the office of private secretary, with a seat in 
Parliament, as member for Wendover. He came into 
Parliament at a very eventful period in English his- 
tory — when one of the most important questions that 
ever engaged the attention of the British nation was to be 
discussed. American Taxation was the all-absorbing topic 
of the day; and it afforded Mr. Burke, and the other ora- 
tors of Parliament, a fine field for displaying the higher 
powers of eloquence. 

At the opening of the session, January, 1766, Mr. Burke 
came forward in a maiden speech of great power and elo- 
quence, on the Stamp Act. This first effort was crowned 
with complete success. It immediately placed him among 
the greatest orators of the age. Thus his parliamentary 
and oratorical reputation burst at once into full splen- 
dor. Dr. Johnson has said of Burke, that probably no 
man at his first appearance ever obtained so much repu- 
tation before. Lord Chatham, who followed Burke in the 
debate, and delivered his celebrated speech on the right 
of taxing America, spoke of him in the highest terms of 



128 ORATORS AND S TATESMEN. 

commendation. " He commenced by saying, tnat the 
young member had proved a very able advocate. He had 
himself intended to enter at length into the details, but 
he had been anticipated with such ingenuity and elo- 
quence, that there was but little left for him to say. He 
congratulated him on his success, and his friends on the 
value of the acquisition they had made." — " Such an en- 
comium, from the greatest of English orators, gave him at 
once a high reputation in the House and in the country 
To a mind like Mr Burke's, it afforded an ample recom- 
pense for all his labors. ' Laudari a laudato viro,"* is per- 
haps the highest gratification of genius." 

The three great subjects which successively engaged the 
attention and occupied the labors of Mr. Burke's poli- 
tical liifc were those relating to Americaj India, and France. 
His parliamentary career may then be divided into three 
periods. The first, extends from 1766, when he took his 
seat in Parliament, to the end of the American war in 
1782. This was the most brilliant period of his senato- 
rial life. Next to Lord Chatham, he was then regarded as 
the most eloquent speaker in Parliament. His fame, as a 
debater, was not yet eclipsed by the rising genius of Fox. 
He stood for many years without a rival in the House of 
Commons. Like Chatham, he derived his greatest glori- 
as an orator from the American war, during which, he 
was the acknowledged leader of the Rockingham Whigs 
in the House. 

On the 19th of April, 1774, Mr. Burke delivered his 
celebrated speech on American Taxation. It was the first 
speech which he committed to writing and gave to the 
world. The following interesting incidents connected 
with the delivery of this speech have come down to us: 

" The evening was far advanced before he rose to address 

• 

* Praise from the praised. 



EDMUND BURKE. 129 

the House. The opening of the debate was dull, and 
many of the members had withdrawn into the adjoining 
apartments or places of refreshment. But the first few 
sentences of his stinging exordium awakened universal 
attention. The report of what was going on spread in 
every quarter; and the members came crowding back, till 
the hall was filled to the utmost, and resounded through- 
out the speech with the loudest expressions of applause. 
Highly as they had estimated Mr. Burke's talents, the House 
were completely taken by surprise. Lord John Townsend 
exclaimed aloud, at the close of one of those powerful 
passages in which the speech abounds, ' Heavens! what a 
man this is! Where could he acquire such transcendent 
powers! ' " 

The eloquence which Mr- Burke displayed on this occa- 
sion filled every heart with admiration; " and the applause 
so lavishly bestowed upon this speech was highly merited. 
No one had ever been delivered in the Parliament of 
Great Britain so full at once of deep research, cogent 
reasoning, cutting sarcasm, graphic description, profound 
political wisdom, and fervid declamation. Lord Chatham 
alone had surpassed it in glowing and impassioned elo- 
quence." 

Of this splendid speech — one of the finest specimens 
of parliamentary oratory in the English language, we 
select the following passage containing the admirable 
sketch of Lord Chatham and his third administration, 
framed in 1766: 

" I have done," said Mr. Burke, " with the third period 

of your policy — that of your repeal; and the return of 

your ancient system, and your ancient tranquility and 

concord. Sir, this period was not as long as it was happy 

Another scene was opened, and other actors appeared on 

the stage. The state, in the condition I have described it, 

was delivered into the hands of Lord Chatham — a great 
17 



130 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and celebrated name — a name that keeps the name of this 
country respectable in every other on the globe. It may 
be truly called 

Clarum et venerabile nomen, 
Gentibus, et multum nostrae quod proderat urbi.* 

" Sir, the venerable age of this great man, his merited 
rank, his superior eloquence, his splendid qualities, his 
eminent services, the vast space he fills in the eye of 
mankind, and, more than all the rest, his fall from power, 
which, like death, canonizes and sanctifies a great charac- 
ter, will not suffer me to censure any part of his conduct. 
I am afraid to flatter him; I am sure I am not disposed to 
blame him. Let those who have betrayed him by their 
adulation, insult him with their malevolence. But what I 
do not presume to censure, I may have leave to lament. 
For a wise man, he seemed to me at that time to be go- 
verned too much by general maxims. I speak with the 
freedom of history, and, I hope, without offense. One or 
two of these maxims, flowing from an opinion not the 
most indulgent to our unhappy species, and surely a little 
too general, led him into measures that were greatly mis- 
chievous to himself; and, for that reason, among others, 
perhaps, fatal to this country; measures, the effects of 
which, I am afraid, are forever incurable. He made an 
administration so chequered and speckled; he put to- 
gether a piece of joinery so crossly indented and whimsi- 
cally dovetailed; a cabinet so variously inlaid; such a piece 
,of diversified mosaic; such a tesselated pavement without 
cement; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of 
white; patriots and courtiers, king's friends and Republi- 
cans, Whigs and Tories, treacherous friends and open 
enemies; that it was indeed a very curious show, but 

* A name illustrious and revered by nations, 
And rich in blessings for our country's good. 



EDMUND BURKE. 131 

utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to stand on. The 
colleagues whom he had assorted at the same boards, stared 
at each other, and, were obliged to ask, ' Sir, your name? 
Sir, you have the advantage of me — Mr. Such-a-one — I 
beg a thousand pardons.' I venture to say, it did so hap- 
pen, that persons had a single office divided between them, 
who had never spoke to each other in their lives, until 
they found themselves, they knew not how, pigging to- 
gether, heads and points, in the same truckle-bed."* 

" Sir, in consequence of this arrangement, having put 
so much the larger portion of his enemies and opposers in 
power, the confusion was such, that his own principles 
could not possibly have any effect or influence in the con- 
duct of affairs. If ever he fell into a fit of the gout, or if 
any other cause withdrew him from public cares, principles 
directly the contrary were sure to predominate. When he- 
had executed his plan, he had not an inch of ground to 
stand upon. When he had accomplished his scheme of 
administration, he was no longer a minister. 

" When his face was hid but for a moment, his whole 
system was on a wide sea, without chart or compass. 
The gentlemen, his particular friends, who, with the 
names of various departments of ministry, were admitted 
to seem as if they acted under him, with a modesty that 
becomes all men, and with a confidence in him which was 
justified, even in its extravagance, by his superior abilities, 
had never, in any instance, presumed upon an opinion of 
their own. Deprived of his guiding influence, they were 
whirled about, the sport of every gust, and easily driven 
into any port; and as those who joined with them in 
manning the vessel were the most directly opposite to his 
opinions, measures, and character, and far the most artful 

* Supposed to allude to the Right Honorable Lord North, and George Cooke, 
Esq., who were made joint paymasters in the summer of 1766, on the removal 
af the Rockingham administration. 



132 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and most powerful of the set, they easily prevailed, so as 
to seize upon the vacant, unoccupied and derelict minds 
of his friends; and instantly they turned the vessel wholly 
out of the course of his policy. As if it were to insult 
as well as to betray him, even long before the close of the 
first session of his administration, when everything was 
publicly transacted, and with great parade in his name, 
they made an act declaring it highly just and expedient 
to raise a revenue in America. For even then, sir, even 
before this splendid orb was entirely set, and while the 
western horizon was in a blaze with his descending glory, 
on the opposite quarter of the heavens arose another lu- 
minary, and, for his hour, became lord of the ascendant. 

" This light, too, is passed and set forever. You under- 
stand, to be sure, that. I speak of Charles Townsend, 
officially the reproducer of this fatal scheme, whom I can 
not even now remember without some degree of sensibility. 
In truth, sir, he was the delight and ornament of this 
House, and the charm of every society which he honored 
with his presence. Perhaps there never arose in this 
country, nor in any country, a man of a more pointed and 
finished wit and (where his passions were not concerned) 
of a more refined, exquisite, and penetrating judgment. 
If he had not so great a stock as some have had who flour- 
ished formerly, of knowledge, long treasured up, he knew 
better by far, than any man I ever was acquainted with, 
how to bring together within a short time all that was 
necessary to establish, to illustrate, and to decorate that 
side of the question he supported. He stated his matter 
skillfully and powerfully. He particularly excelled in a 
most luminous explanation and display of his subject. 
His style of argument was neither trite and vulgar, nor 
subtle and abstruse. He hit the House just between wind 
and water; and, not being troubled with too anxious a 
zeal for any matter in question, he was never more tedious 



EDMUND BURKE. 133 

or more earnest than the preconceived opinions and pre- 
sent temper of his hearers required, to whom he was always 
in perfect unison. He conformed exactly to the temper of 
the House; and he seemed to guide, because he was always 
sure to follow it. 

" I beg pardon, sir, if, when I speak of this and other 
great men, I appear to digress in saying something of 
their characters. In this eventful history of the revolu- 
tions of America, the characters of such men are of much 
importance. Great men are the guide-posts and land-marks 
in the state. The credit of such men at court, or in the 
nation, is the sole cause of all the public measures. It 
would be an invidious thing (most foreign, I trust, to what 
you think my disposition) to remark the errors into which 
the authority of great names has brought the nation, with- 
out doing justice at the same time to the great qualities 
whence that authority rose. The subject is instructive to 
those who wish to form themselves on whatever of excel- 
lence has gone before them. There are many young mem- 
bers in the House (such of late lias been the rapid succes- 
sion of public men) who never saw that prodigy, Charles 
Townsend, nor, of course, know what a ferment he was 
able to excite in everything, by the violent ebullition of 
his mixed virtues and failings. For failings he had, un- 
doubtedly. Many of us remember them. We are this 
day considering the effect of them. But he had no failings 
which were not owing to a noble cause — to an ardent, 
generous, perhaps an immoderate passion for fame — a 
passion which is the instinct of all great souls. He wor- 
shiped that goddess wheresoever she appeared; but he 
paid his particular devotions to her in her favorite habita- 
tion, in her chosen temple, the House of Commons." 

Such is a specimen of the style of this speech, which is 
pronounced by a judicious critic of England to be equal in 
beauty to any speech Mr. Burke ever composed; and m 



134 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

nerve and force, — in all the essentials of powerful elo- 
quence, — to surpass most of them. 

" The moment Mr. Burke closed, his friends crowded 
around his seat, and urged him to commit his speech to 
writing, and give it immediately to the world, as a protest 
against the headlong measures which threatened the dis- 
memberment of the empire. He did so, and on five other 
occasions he repeated the task; thus leaving us six speeches 
as representatives of several hundreds, many of which are 
said to have been equal, if not superior in eloquence to 
those which were thus preserved. One especially, delivered 
about four years after, on the employment of the Indians 
in the war, was spoken of by his friends as the most 
powerful appeal which he ever made. Colonel Barre, in 
the fervor of his excitement, declared that, if it could be 
written out, he would nail it on every church door in the 
kingdom. Sir George Savile said, ' He who did not hear 
that speech, has failed to witness the greatest triumph of 
eloquence within my memory.' Governor Johnstone said 
on the floor of the House, ' It was fortunate for the noble 
Lords [North and Germaine] that spectators had been 
excluded during that debate, for if any had been present, 
they would have excited the people to tear the noble Lords 
in pieces in their way home. ' " 

On the 20th of February, 1775, Lord North brought for- 
ward his insidious scheme, professedly for the purpose of 
"conciliating the differences with America," but really 
intended " to divide the colonies among themselves, by 
exempting from taxation those who, through their General 
Assemblies, should contribute their proportion to the 
common defense." Such is the substance of a plan which 
was intended to crush America by internal dissensions. 
But Lord North was ignorant of the glorious spirit which 
actuated the whole body of the American people, in 
resisting the chains of tyranny and oppression, forged by 



EDMUND BURKE. . 135 

the British Senate, and which led them, like the brave 
sons of Lacedcemon, to choose death rather than life, if 
they could not inhale the pure air of liberty. With the 
public spirit, national character, and history of the Ameri- 
can colonists, Mr. Burke was better acquainted than 
any man in Great Britain; and on the 22d of March, 1775, 
he came forward in one of the most powerful speeches 
he ever delivered, exhibiting in vivid colors the flourishing 
condition of America — her growing population, agricul- 
ture, commerce, and education; showing the utter impos- 
sibility of repressing the firm and intractable spirit of the 
Americans, and that concession on the part of the English 
government was absolutely necessary in order to effect 
conciliation He proposed " to admit the Americans to an 
equal interest in the British constitution and place them at 
once on the footing of other Englishmen." 

This celebrated speech on Conciliation with America 
should be closely studied by every orator — by every citizen 
and lover of our country. It is perhaps the most elabor- 
ate of Mr. Burke's speeches, and displays an admirable 
richness of imagery, and beauty of style, as well as a 
wonderful extent and variety of useful information. 

Sir James Mackintosh has pronounced it " the most fault- 
less of Mr. Burke's productions;" and Prof. Goodrich 
remarks that " it will be read probably more than any of 
his other speeches, for the richness of its style and the 
lasting character of the instruction it conveys. Both of 
Mr Burke's speeches on America, are full of materials 
for the orator and the statesmen. After all that has been 
written on the origin of our Revolution, there is nowhere 
else to be found so admirable a summation of the causes 
which produced it. They both deserved to be studied 
with the utmost diligence by every American scholar." 

In the speech on Conciliation with America we have a 
fine amplification on American agriculture and fisheries: 



136 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" I pass, therefore," said Mr. Burke " to the colonies in 
another point of view — their agriculture. This they have 
prosecuted with such a spirit, that, besides feeding plenti- 
fully their o^ n growing multitude, their annual export of 
grain, comprehending rice, has, some years ago, exceeded 
a million in value. Of their last harvest I am persuaded 
they will export much more. At the beginning of the cen- 
tury, some of these colonies imported corn from the mother 
country. For some time past the old world has been fed 
from the new. The scarcity which you have felt would 
have been a desolating famine, if this child of your old 
age, with a true filial piety, with a Roman charity, had not 
put the full breast of its youthful exuberance to the mouth 
of its exhausted parent. 

" As to the wealth which the colonies have drawn from 
the sea by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully 
opened at your bar. You surely thought those acquisi- 
tions of value, for they seemed even to excite your envy; 
and yet, the spirit by which that enterprising employment 
has been exercised, ought rather, in my opinion, to have 
raised your esteem and admiration. And pray, sir, what 
in the world is equal to it? Pass by the other parts, and 
look at the manner in which the people of New England 
have of late carried on the whale fishery. While we 
follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and 
behold them penetrating the deepest frozen recesses of 
Hudson's Bay and Davis' Straits — while we are looking 
for them beneath the arctic circle, we hear that they have 
pierced into the opposite region of polar cold — that they 
are at the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen Serpent 
of the south.* Falkland Island, which seemed too remote 
and romantic an object for the grasp of national ambition, 
is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of their 

* The Hydrus, or Water Serpent, is a small constellation lying very far to 
the south, wiiin the antartic circle. 



EDMUND BURKE. 137 

victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more 
discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of 
both the poles. We know that while some of them draw 
the line and strike the harpoon on the coast of Africa, 
others run the longitude and pursue their gigantic game 
along the coast of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by 
their fisheries, No climate that is not witness to their 
toils. Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity 
of France, nor the dexterous and firm sagacity of English 
enterprise, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy 
industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by this 
recent people — a people who are still, as it were, but in 
the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of man- 
hood. When I contemplate these things — when I know 
that the colonies in general owe little or nothing to any 
care of ours, and that they are not squeezed into this 
happy form by the constraints of watchful and suspicious 
government, but that, through a wise and salutary neglect, 
a generous nature has been suffered to take her own way 
to perfection — when I reflect upon these effects — when I 
see how profitable they have been to us, I feel all the 
pride of power sink, and all presumption in the wisdom 
of human contrivances melt, and die away within me. 
My rigor relents. I pardon something to the spirit of 
liberty." 

The orator's allusion to education in America, in those 
days, is interesting: " Permit me, sir," continued Mr. 
Burke, " to add another circumstance in our colonies, 
which contributes no mean part toward the growth and 
effect of this untractable spirit — I mean their education. 
In no country perhaps in the world is the law so general a 
study. The profession itself is numerous and powerful; 
nnd in most provinces it takes the lead. The greater num- 
ber of the deputies sent to Congress were lawyers. But all 

who read, and most do read, endeavor to obtain some 
17 



138 ORATORS AND STATL^.iEK 

smattering in that science. I hav* been told by an emi- 
nent bookseller, that in no branch of his business, after 
tracts of popular devotion, were so many books as those 
on the law exported to the Plantations. The colonists 
have now fallen into the way of printing them for their 
own use. I hear that they have sold nearly as many of 
Blackstone's Commentaries in America as in England. 
General Gage marks out this disposition very particularly 
in a letter on your table. He states, that all the people in 
his government are lawyers, or smatterers in law; and that 
in Boston they have been enabled, by successful chicane, 
wholly to evade many parts of one of your capital penal 
constitutions. The smartness of debate will say, that this 
knowledge ought to teach them more clearly the rights of 
legislature, their obligations to obedience, and the penal- 
ties of rebellion. All this is mighty well. But my hon- 
orable and learned friend [Mr., afterward Lord Thurlow] 
on the floor, who condescends to mark what I say for ani- 
madversion, will disdain that ground. He has heard, as 
well as I, that when great honors and great emoluments 
do not win over this knowledge to the service of the state. 
it is a formidable adversary to government. If the spirit 
be not tamed and broken by these happy methods, it is 
stubborn and litigious. Abeunt studia in mores.* This 
study renders men acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in 
attack, ready in defense, full of resources. In other 
countries, the people, more simple and of a less mercurial 
cast, judge of an ill principle in government only by an 
actual grievance. Here they anticipate the evil, and judge 
of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the 
principle. They augur misgovernment at a distance; and 
snuff the approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze." 

The peroration of this speech is uncommonly fine: " My 
hold of the colonies," added Mr. Burke, " is in the close 

* Studies pass into habits. 



EDMUND BURKE. 139 

affection which grows from common names, from kindred 
blood, from similar privileges, and equal protection. 
These are ties, which, though light as air, are as strong as 
links of iron. Let the colonies always keep the idea of their 
civil rights associated with your government ; they will 
cling and grapple to you, and no force under heaven will 
be of power to tear them from their allegiance. But let 
it be once understood that your government may be one 
thing, and their privileges another; that these two things 
may exist without any mutual relation; the cement is 
gone; the cohesion is loosened; and everything hastens to 
decay and dissolution. As long as you have the wisdom to 
keep the sovereign authority of this country as the sanctu- 
ary of liberty, the sacred temple consecrated to our com- 
mon faith, wherever the chosen race and sons of England 
worship Freedom, they will turn their faces toward you.* 
The more they multiply, the more friends you will have. 
The more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect will 
be their obedience. Slavery they can have any where. It 
is a weed that grows in every soil. They may have it from 
Spain; they may have it from Prussia; but, until you 
become lost to all feeling of your true interest and your 
natural dignity, freedom they can have from none but you. 
This is the commodity of price, of which you have the 
monopoly. This is the true Act of Navigation, which 

* " This is one of those beautiful allusions to the Scriptures with which Mr. 
Burke so often adorns his pages. The practice among the Jews of worshiping 
toward the temple in all their dispersions, was founded on the prayer of Solo- 
mon at its dedication: 'If thy people go out to battle, or withersoever thou 
shalt send them, and shall pray unto the Lord toward the city which thou hast 
chosen, and toward the House that I have built for thy name, then hear thou in 
heaven their prayer and their supplication, and maintain their cause.' — 1st 
Kings, ix, 44-5. Accordingly, ; When Daniel knew that the writing was 
signed, he went into his house; and his windows being open toward Jerusalem, 
he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed and gave thanks before 
his God, as he did aforetime. 1 — Dan., vi., 10." 



140 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

inds to you the commerce of the colonies, and through 
them secures to you the wealth of the world. Deny them 
this participation of freedom, and you break that sole 
bond which originally made, and must still preserve, the 
unity of the empire. Do not entertain so weak an imagi- 
nation as that your registers and your bonds, your affida- 
vits and your sufferances, your cockets and your clear- 
ances, are what form the great securities of your com- 
merce. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your 
instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the things 
that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious 
whole. These things do not make your government. 
Dead instruments, passive tools as they are, it is the spirit 
of the English communion that gives all their life and 
efficacy to them. It is the spirit of the English Constitu- 
tion, which, infused through the mighty mass, pervades, feeds, 
unites, invigorates, vivifies every part of the empire, even 
down to the minutest member" 

On the 6th of September, 1780, Mr. Burke delivered his 
celebrated speech previous to the election at Bristol. Sir 
Samuel Romilly speaks of this effort as " perhaps the best 
piece of oratory in our language;" and Prof. Goodrich 
commends it to the young orator as w r ell worthy of his 
study and imitation: " This is," says he, " in many respects, 
the best speech of Mr. Burke for the study and imitation 
of a young orator. It is more simple and direct than any 
of his other speeches. It was addressed to merchants and 
business-men; and while it abounds quite as much as any 
of his productions in the rich fruits of political wisdom, 
and ha3 occasionally very bold and striking images, it is 
less ambitious in style, and less pronuent in illustration, 
than his more elaborate efforts in the House of Commons." 
It was on this occasion that Mr. Burke gave utterance 
to one of those touching reflections, which has been 
always admired for the beauty of its imagery, and for the 



EDMUND BURKE. 141 

Instructive lesson which it furnishes. The circumstances 
which led Mr. Burke to make the reflection which follows, 
were these: " One of his competitors, Mr. Coombe, over- 
come by the excitement and agitation of the canvass, had 
died the preceding night. Such an event was indeed ' an 
awful lesson against being too much troubled about any 
of the objects of ordinary ambition.' Well might Mr. 
Burke say, in taking leave, ' The worthy gentleman who 
has been snatched from us at the moment of the election, 
and in the middle of the contest, while his desires were as 
warm, and his hopes as eager as ours, has feelingly told 
us, what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursued* 

Notwithstanding those eloquent remonstrances of Burke 
against the violent and oppressive measures of Parliament, 
relating to America, an infatuated King and Ministry were 
determined to enforce their arbitrary laws with the sword. 
The war of the Revolution had already commenced. The 
streets of Lexington and Concord had been stained with 
blood. A shout of victory went up from Bunker Hill; *and 
the whole country flew to arms. 

Mr. Burke continued to oppose the American war. On 
a second scheme of conciliation, which he brought for- 
ward, he deliver td a speech which is said to have been a 

* Who can read this without being reminded of the striking words of In- 
spiration. " Our days on earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." 
I Chron. xxix, 15. u Man is like to vanity: his days are as a shadow that 
passeth away." — Psalm cxliv, 4. "He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not." — Job, xiv, 2. 

Similar to the serious expression of Mr. Burke was the language of Patrick 
Henry on one of the proudest days of his life, when he was triumphantly elected 
as a member of the State Legislature. As he was receiving the homage and 
applause of political friends amidst an enthusiastic crowd, a Baptist preacher 
asked the people aloud why they thus followed Mr. Henry about. "Mr. 
Henry," said he, "is not a god." " No," responded Mr. Henry, deep ly af- 
fected, " No, indeed, my friend-, I am but a poor worm of the dust — as fleeting 
and unsubstantial as the shadow of the cioud that flics over your fields, and is 
remembered no mere!"' 



142 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

wonderful effort of oratory. One of his most eloquent 
and powerful Philippics against the prosecution of the war, 
was delivered on the 27th of November, 1781 No full or 
accurate report of it was ever made; one passage, con- 
taining a very striking figure — that of shearing the wolf, 
will ever be remembered : 

" The noble Lord," said Mr. Burke, " tells us that we 
went to war for the maintenance of rights: the King's 
speech says, we will go on for the maintenance of our 
rights. Oh, invaluable rights, that have cost Great Britain 
thirteen provinces, four islands, a hundred thousand men, 
and seventy millions of money! Oh, inestimable rights, 
that have taken from us our rank among nations, our im- 
portance abroad, and our happiness at home; that have 
taken from us our trade, our manufactures, our commerce; 
that have reduced us from the most flourishing empire in 
the world, to be one of the most miserable and abject 
powers on the face of the globe! All this we did because 
we had a right to tax America! Miserable and infatuated 
ministers! Wretched and undone country! not to know 
that right signifies nothing without might — that the claim, 
without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle! 
We had a right to tax America! Such is the reasoning by 
which the noble Lord justifies his conduct. Similar was 
the reasoning of him who was resolved to shear the wolf! 
What ! shear a wolf? Have you considered the difficulty, 
the resistance, the danger? No! says the madman, I have 
considered nothing but the right! Man has a right of 
dominion over the inferior animals. A wolf has wool; 
animals that have wool are to be shorn; therefore I will 
shear the wolf."* 

* " Well might Mr. Burke employ such, language; for the news had reached 
London only two days before, that Lord Cornwallis had capitulated at York- 
town with the loss of his entire army. When the intelligence was carried to 
Lord North, he received it, says an eye-witness, ' as he would have taken a 



EDMUND BURKE. 143 

The second pel iod of Mr. Burke's political life, which 
extends from the close of the Revolutionary war in 1782, 
to the commencement of the French Revolution in 1789, 
is memorable for including the impeachment and trial of 
Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India. 

At the close of the American war the attention of Par- 
liament was turned to India. Dreadful were the cruelties 
inflicted upon the natives of that unhappy land through 
the agency of British rulers. The country was ravaged, 
the miserable inhabitants given up ' to the sword, — hus- 
bands, wives, and children were torn from each other, and 
slaughtered without mercy.* Governor Hastings was 
regarded by Burke and many others as the author of many 
of the cruelties practiced in India. 

The principal object of these atrocities was the extortion 
of money from the wealthy inhabitants of India. Millions 
of pounds were thus unjustly extorted to replenish the 
treasury of the East India Company, while thousands of 
lives were inhumanly sacrificed in the attempt to obtain 
this wealth. No wonder then that Burke, who had 
devoted ten years to the investigation of English atrocities 
in India, and knew who was the responsible author of 
them, resolved on the impeachment of Warren Hastings 
Preparatory to this step, he delivered several brilliant 
speeches on the state of India, the greatest of which was 
that on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, in 1785. 

Never perhaps was a speech delivered under more un- 
favorable circumstances. " The theme was unpromising, 
and he rose to speak under every possible disadvantage. 
It was late at night, or rather early in the morning, and 
the house was so exhausted by the previous debates, and 

ball into his breast!' He threw open his arms, exclaiming wildly, as he 
paced the room, ' It is all over! it is all over!' " 

* On this subject the reader will find it interesting to consult Mill's History 
of Biitish India. 



144 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

so weary of the whole subject, that they seemed almost to a 
man determined not to hear him. He proceeded, however, 
amid much noise and interruption, and poured out his 
feelings for nearly five hours, with an ardor and impetu- 
osity which he had never before equaled. In this speech 
w r e have the most surprising exhibition to be found in any 
of Mr. Burke's productions, of the compass and variety of 
thought which he was able to crowd into a single effort. 
In rhetorical address, vivid painting, lofty declamation, 
bitter sarcasm, and withering invective, it surpasses all his 
former speeches.' , 

Lord Brougham has pronounced this speech " by far the 
first of all Mr. Burke's orations." The most eloquent pas- 
sage that he ever produced is universally allowed to be his 
vivid and forcible description of Hyder Ali sweeping over 
the Carnatic with fire and sword. Hyder Ali was a cele- 
brated Indian sovereign who, at the head of an army of 
ninety thousand men, invaded the territories of the East 
India Company in 1790, and shook the British power there 
to its foundation. Here we have the eloquent passage: 

" When at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do 
with men who either would sign no convention, or whom 
no treaty and no signature could bind, and who were the 
determined enemies of human intercourse itself, he decreed 
to make the country possessed by these incorrigible and 
predestinated criminals a memorable example to mankind. 
He resolved, in the gloomy recesses of a mind capacious 
of such things, to leave the whole Carnatic an everlasting 
monument of vengeance, and to put perpetual desolation 
as a barrier between him and those against whom the faith 
which holds the moral elements of the world together was 
no protection. He became at length so confident of his 
force, so collected in his might, that he made no secret 
whatsoever of his dreadful resolution. Having terminated 
his disputes with every enemy and every rival, who buried 



EDMUND BURKE. 145 

tlieir mutual animosities in their common detestation 
against the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew from 
every quarter whatever a savage ferocity could add to his 
new rudiments in the arts of destruction ; and compound- 
ing all the materials of fury, havoc, and desolation into 
one black cloud, he hung for a while on the declivities of 
the mountains. While the authors of all these evils were 
idly and stupidly gazing on this menacing meteor, which 
blackened all their horizon, it suddenly burst, and poured 
down the whole of its contents upon the plains of the Car- 
natic. Then ensued a scene of woe, the like of which no 
eye had seen, no heart conceived, and which no tongue can 
adequately tell. All the horrors of war before known or 
heard of were mercy to that new havoc. A storm of uni- 
versal fire blasted every field, consumed every house, 
destroyed every temple. The miserable inhabitants, Hying 
from their flaming villages, in part were slaughtered; 
others, without regard to sex, to age, to the respect of 
rank, or sacredness of function; fathers torn from child- 
ren, husbands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of 
cavalry, and, amid the goading spears of drivers and the 
trampling of pursuing horses, were swept into captivity, 
in an unknown and hostile land. Those who were able to 
evade this tempest lied to the walled cities, but, escaping 
from fire, sword, and exile, they fell into the jaws of 
famine."* 

On the 10th day of May, 1787, Mr. Burke, attended by 
the members of the House of Commons, went to the bar of 
the House of Lords, and impeached Warren Hastings of 
high crimes and misdemeanors. 

* " The reader will find it interesting to compare this passage with the most 
eloquent one in Mr. Fox's speeches, beginning ' And all this without an intel- 
ligible motive -,' and also with Demosthenes' description (about the middle of 
his Oration for the Crown) of the terror and confusion at Athens, when the 
news arrived that Elateia had been seized by Philip," 

18 • 



146 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

The conduct of the trial was committed to a body of 
managers, the principal of whom were Burke, Fox, Sheri- 
dan, Windham, and Sir Philip Francis. The trial of 
Warren Hastings was one of the greatest that the world 
has ever witnessed. Never, perhaps, was there ever such 
magnificent bursts of impassioned eloquence, vivid descrip- 
tions, withering invectives, cutting sarcasms, and lofty 
declamations, as those which electrified and shook West- 
minster Hall, when the united voices of those great ora- 
tors were raised in tones of thunder against the governor 
of India. 

" Never did eloquence so delight the ear as on this occa- 
sion. The greatest orators of an age of oratorical splendor 
exerted themselves to the utmost. Burke, Fox, Sheridan, 
Windham? followed each other in apparently endless suc- 
cession, and, to use the striking language of Mr. Erskine, 
* shook the walls of Westminster Hall with anathemas of 
superhuman eloquence.' Mr. Burke never spoke with 
such transcendent effect as on this memorable occasion." 

On the 13th of February, 1788, this celebrated trial com- 
menced in Westminster Hall, in the presence of a vast 
assemblage, amid the most august and imposing scenes. 

" After two days spent in the preliminary ceremonies, 
Mr. Burke opened the case in a speech which lasted four 
days, and was designed to give the members of the court a 
view of the character and condition of the people of India; 
the origin of the power exercised by the East India Com- 
pany; the situation of the natives under the government 
of the English; the miseries they had endured through the 
agency of Mr. Hastings; and the motives by which he was 
influenced in his multiplied acts of cruelty and oppression. 
This speech has, perhaps, been truly characterized as the 
greatest intellectual effort ever made before the Parliament 
of Great Britain. A writer adverse to the impeachment 
has remarked that ' Mr. Burke astonished even those who 



EDMUND BURKE. 147 

were most intimately acquainted with him, by the vast 
extent of his reading, the variety of his resources, the 
minuteness of his information, and the lucid order in 
which he arranged the whole for the support of his sub- 
ject, and to make a deep impression on the minds of his 
auditory.' On the third day, w r hen he described the cruel- 
ties inflicted upon the natives by Debi Sing, one of Mr. 
Hastings' agents, a convulsive shudder ran throughout the 
whole assembly. ' In this . part of his speech,' says the 
reporter, ( his descriptions were more vivid, more harrow- 
ing, more horrific, than human utterance, on either fact or 
fancy, perhaps ever formed before.' Mr. Burke himself 
was so much overpowered at one time that he dropped his 
head upon his hands, and was unable for some minutes to 
proceed; while l the bosoms of his auditors became con- 
vulsed with passion, and those of more delicate organs or 
a w r eaker frame swooned away.' Even Mr. Hastings him- 
self, who, not having ordered these inflictions, had always 
claimed that he was not involved in their guilt, was utterly 
overwhelmed In describing the scene afterward, he said, 
' For half an hour I looked up at the orator in a revery of 
wonder, and actually felt myself to be the most culpable 
man on earth.' 'But at length ' (in reference to the 
grounds just mentioned), ' I recurred to my own bosom, 
and there found a consciousness that consoled me under 
all I heard and all I suffered.' " 

Such is the nature of genuine eloquence, that it alter- 
nately overpowers the soul with astonishment, wraps it in 
the deepest sorrow, transports it with joy, and bears it 
away in a pleasing ecstasy. The effect of this speech was 
electric. The stern Lord Thurlow, who was melted during 
its delivery, remarked some time afterwards, that " their 
Lordships all knew the effect upon the auditors, many of 
whom had not to that moment, and perhaps never would, 
recover from the shock it had occasioned." 



148 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

The beautiful and impressive peroration of this great 
speech must not be omitted $ we select the following pas- 
sages: 

" In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all 
this villainy upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment 
of my application to you. 

" My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act 
of national justice? Do we want a cause, my Lords? You 
have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of 
the first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted king- 
doms. 

" Do you want a criminal, my Lords? When was there 
so much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one? No, 
my Lords, you must not look to punish any other such 
delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not left 
substance enough in India to nourish such another delin- 
quent. 

" My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have be- 
fore you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors; 
and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent 
progress round the world, does not behold a more glorious 
sight than that of men, separated from a remote people by 
the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the 
bond of a social and moral community — all the Commons 
of England resenting, as their own, the indignities and 
cruelties that are offered to all the people of India. 

" Do we want a tribunal? My Lords, no example of 
antiquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the 
range of human imagination, can supply us with a tribunal 
like this. My Lords, here we see virtually, in the mind's 
eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose autho- 
rity you sit, and whose power you exercise. We see i:i 
that invisible authority, what we all feel in reality and 
life, the beneficent powers and protecting justice of his 
Majesty." 



EDMUND BURKE. 149 

" My Lords, you have h^re, also, the lights of our reli- 
gion; you have the bishops of England. You have the 
representatives of that religion which says that their God 
is love, that the very vital spirit of their institution is 
charity — a religion which so much hates oppression, that 
when the God whom we adore appeared in human form, 
he did not appear in a form of greatness and majesty, but 
in sympathy with the lowest of the people, and thereby 
made it a firm and ruling principle that their welfare was 
the object of all government, since the person who was the 
Master of Nature, chose to appear himself in a subordinate 
situation. These are the considerations which influence 
them, which animate them, and will animate them, against 
all oppression; knowing that He who is called first among 
them, and first among us all, both of the flock that is fed 
and of those who feed it, made himself ' the servant of all.' 

"My Lords, these are the securities which we have in 
all the constituent parts of the body of this House. We 
know them, we reckon, we rest upon them, and commit 
safely the interests of India and of humanity into your 
hands. Therefore it is with confidence, that, ordered by 
the Commons, 

" I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes 
and misdemeanors. 

" I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great 
Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary 
trust he has betrayed. 

" I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of 
Great Britian, whose national character he has dishonored. 

" I impeach him in the name of the people of India, 
whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose 
property he has destroyed, whose country he has laid waste 
and desolate. 

" I impeach him in the name, and by virtue of those 
eternal laws of justice which he has violated. 



150 OR ATORS AND STAT ESMEK. 

" I impeach him in the name of human nature it^eif, 
which he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed, in 
both sexes, in every age„ rank, situation, and condition of 
life."* 

The trial of Warren Hastings extended through seven 
years. On the 16th of July, 1794, Mr. Burke delivered his 
closing speech in behalf of the managers. 

" It was in the darkest season of the French Revolution, 
a few days before the fall of Robespierre, when the British 
empire was agitated with conflicting passions, and fears 
were entertained by many of secret conspiracies to over- 
throw the government. To these things he referred at the 
close of his peroration, which has a grandeur and sub- 
limity becoming the conclusion of such a trial." 

" My Lords," said he, " I have done ! The part of the 
Commons is concluded! With a trembling hand, we con- 
sign the product of these long, long labors to your charge. 
Take it! Take it! It is a sacred trust! Never before was 
a cause of such magnitude submitted to any human tribu- 
nal! 

" My Lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Com- 
mons, and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I 
attest the advancing generations, between which, as a link 
in the chain of eternal order, we stand. We call this 
nation, we call the world, to witness, that the Commons 
have shrunk from no labor; that we have been guilty of 
no prevarications; that we have made no compromise with 
crime; that we have not feared any odium whatsoever, in 
the long warfare which we have carried on with the 
crimes, the vices, the exorbitant wealth, the enormous 
and overpowering influence, of Eastern corruption. 

* Nothing more impressive or imposing than this peroration is to be found 
injudicial oratory, and the effect of the whole speech was so powerful upon 
the auditory, that it was only after some time and repeated efforts that Mr. Fox 
could obtain a hearing. 



EDMUND BURKE. 151 

" A business which has so long occupied the councils 
and tribunals of Great Britain, can not possibly be hurried 
over in the course of vulgar, trite, and transitory events. 
Nothing but some of those great revolutions that break the 
traditionary chain of human memory, and alter the very 
face of nature itself, can possibly obscure it. My Lords, 
we are all elevated to a degree of importance by it. The 
meanest of us will, by means of it, become more or less the 
concern of posterity. 

"My Lords, your House yet stands; it stands a great 
edifice; but, let me say, it stands in the midst of ruins — 
in the midst of ruins that have been made by the greatest 
moral earthquake that ever convulsed and shattered this 
globe of ours. My Lords, it has pleased Providence to 
place us in such a state, that we appear every moment 
to be on the verge of some great mutation. There is one 
thing, and one thing only, that defies mutation — that 
which existed before the world itself. I mean Justice; 
that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, has a 
place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our 
guide with regard to ourselves, and with regard to others; 
and which will stand after this globe is burned to ashes, 
our advocate or our accuser before the great Judge, when 
he comes to call upon us for the tenor of a well spent life 
" My Lords, the Commons will share in every fate with 
your Lordships. There is nothing sinister which can 
happen to you, in which we are not involved. And if it 
should so happen that your Lordships, stripped of all the 
decorous distinctions of human society, should, by hands 
at once base and cruel, be led to those scaffolds and ma- 
chines of murder upon which great kings and glorious 
queens have shed their blood, amid the prelates, the nobles, 
the magistrates who supported their thrones, may you in 
those moments feel that consolation which I am per- 



152 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

suaded they felt in the critical moments of their dreadful 
agony! * * * 

" My Lords, if you must fall, may you so fall! But if 
you stand — and stand I trust you will, together with the 
fortunes of this ancient monarchy; together with the 
ancient laws and liberties of this great and illustrious 
kingdom — may you stand as unimpeached in honor as in 
power! May you stand, not as a substitute for virtue; may 
you stand, and long stand, the terror of tyrants; may you 
stand, the refuge of afflicted nations; may you stand, a 
sacred temple for the perpetual residence of inviolable 



JUSTICE 



I" 



Mr. Hastings was at length acquitted by the House of 
Lords; but this does not prove that he was innocent of 
those crimes laid to his charge, or that the cruelties which 
Mr. Burke so eloquently described were not inflicted upon 
the natives of India. The voice of history confirms the 
astounding statements of the orator. No one will now 
dispute them. They stand open before the world in all 
their horrors; and that Warren Hastings was the respon- 
sible author of the most of these atrocities, we think is 
also very clear. 

The third stage of Mr. Burke's eventful career, is memo- 
rable for the commencement of one of the greatest revo- 
lutions that ever shook the world in modern times — the 
French Revolution of 1789. From the very first, Mr. 
Burke regarded this revolution with jealousy and alarm. 
It called forth some of the most brilliant efforts of his 
genius in the last years of his life. 

In 1790 Mr. Burke published his most remarkable work, 
entitled Reflections on the Revolution in France. Per- 
haps no political treatise in the English language has ever 
awakened so lively an interest. In England alone thirty 
thousand copies were sold in less than a year after its pub- 



EDMUND BURKE. 153 

lication. It was translated into French, and extensively 
circulated through Europe. In many respects this work 
surpasses all that Mr. Burke ever wrote, — as a literary 
effort it eclipses the fame of his earlier publications. 

" In a literary view," says Prof. Goodrich, " there can be 
but one opinion of this work. Though desultory in its 
character, and sometimes careless or prolix in style, it 
contains more richness of thought, splendor of imagina- 
tion, and beauty of diction, than any volume of the same 
size in our language." Robert Hall has truly said, " Mr. 
Burke's imperial fancy has laid all nature under tribute, 
and has collected riches from every scene of the creation, 
and every walk of art. His eulogium on the queen of 
France is a master-piece of pathetic composition, so select 
in its images, so fraught with tenderness, and so rich with 
colors ' dipt in heaven,' that he who can read it without 
rapture may have merit as a reasoner, but must resign all 
pretensions to taste and sensibility." 

The celebrated eulogium on the beautiful but ill-fated 
Maria Antoinette will ever be admired: 

" It is now sixteen or seventeen years," said Mr. Burke, 

(i since I saw the queen of France, the dauphiness, at 

Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which 

she hardly seemed to touch, a more delighted vision. I 

saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering 

the elevated sphere she just began to move in, glittering 

like the morning star, full of life, and splendor, and joy. 

Oh! what a revolution! and what a heart must I have, to 

contemplate, without motion, that elevation and that fall! 

Little did I dream, when she added titles of veneration to 

those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she 

should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against 

disgrace concealed in that bosom; little did I dream that 

I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her 

in a nation of gallant men in a nation of men of honor 
20 



154 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have 
leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that 
threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is 
gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has 
succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for- 
ever. Never, never more shall we behold that generous 
loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that digni- 
fied obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept 
alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted 
freedom. The unbo Light grace of life, the cheap defense 
of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic en- 
terprise is gone! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, 
that chastity of honor, which felt a stain like a wound, 
which inspired courage while it mitigated ferocity, which 
ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself 
lost half its evil by losing all its grossness." 

On the French Revolution, Burke and Fox were divided 
in sentiment. While the former, as has been stated, op- 
posed the principles of the revolutionists, the latter hailed 
them with delight. In the course of one of his speeches, 
Mr. Burke declared that "he would abandon his best 
friends, and join with his worst enemies, to oppose French 
principles." A few evenings after, in a debate, Mr. Fox 
praised the new constitution of France in the following 
terms: " I for one admire the new constitution, considered 
altogether, as the most glorious fabric ever raised by human 
integrity since the creation of man."" 

This difference of opinion on such an important sub- 
ject, finally led to a breach of friendship between these 
two great statesmen. It was one of the most painful 
events in the lives of Burke and Fox, who had so long 
been friends. The affecting scene which occurred in the 
House of Commons, when the bonds of their friendship 
were forever dissolved, is thus described by Chateaubriand, 
who was an eye-witness: 



EDMUND BURKE. 155 

" In 1791 1 was present at the memorable sitting of the 
House of Commons, when Burke renounced his political 
connection with Fox. The question related to the French 
revolution, which Burke attacked, and Fox defended. 
Never did the two speakers, who had till then been friends, 
display such eloquence. The whole House was affected, 
and tears trickled down Fox's cheeks when Burke con- 
cluded his reply in these words : — 

' The right honorable gentleman, in the speech which he 
has just made, has treated me in every sentence with un- 
common harshness. He has brought down the whole 
strength and heavy artillery of his judgment, eloquence, 
and abilities upon me, to crush me at once by a censure 
upon my whole life, conduct and opinions. Notwithstand- 
ing this great and serious, though on my part unmerited, 
attack and attempt to crush me, I will not be dismayed. 
I am not yet afraid to state my sentiments in this House or 
any where else, and I will tell all the world that the con- 
stitution is in danger. It certainly is an indiscretion at 
any period, but especially at my time of life, to provoke 
enemies, or to give my friends occasion to desert me; yet, 
if my firm and steady adherence to the British constitu- 
tion places me in such a dilemma, I will risk all; and, as 
public duty and public prudence teach me, with my last 
words exclaim, Fly from the French Constitution!' 

Mr. Fox here whispered 'that there was no loss of 
friends.' ' Yes,' exclaimed Burke, ' there is a loss of 
friends: I know the price of my conduct. I have done my 
duty at the price of my friend. Our friendship is at an 
end. Before I sit down, let me earnestly warn the two 
right honorable gentlemen* who are the great rivals in 
this House, whether they hereafter move in the political 
hemisphere as two flaming meteors, or walk together like 
brothers hand in hand, to preserve and cherish the British 

* Fox and Pitt. 



156 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

constitution, to guard against innovation, and to save it 
from the danger of those new theories."* 

After Mr. Burke had concluded his speech, Mr. Fox 
rose, bathed in tears; it was for some minutes before he 
was able to proceed. As soon as he could speak, he 
pressed upon Mr. Burke the claims of a friendship of 
twenty-five years' duration; but it was all to no purpose. 
The breach was irreparable; they never met again as 
friends.f 

The most painful affliction which ever lay in the earthly 
pathway of Mr. Burke was that occasioned by the loss of 
his only son, — "the hope of his age, the stay of his life, 
the only comfort of his declining and now joyless years.'" 
Richard Burke was a young man of great abilities, and 
possessed a high moral principle; but in the very midst 
of life and buoyant hopes, he was cut down by disease 
Consumption had laid its iron grasp upon him, and he 

* Sketches of English Literature, vol. ii, page 275. 

f The latter period of Mr. Burke's life was not so happy as the former. 
The number of his enemies had greatly increased-, and they endeavored by all 
the means in their power to obscure the brightness of his political career. In 
the heat of debate Mr. Burke often lost his temper and thus became exposed to 
the cutting sarcasm and withering contempt of his antagonist. Several of his 
opponents adopted a course of systematic insult for the purpose of putting him 
down. " ' Muzzling the lion ' was the term applied to such treatment of the 
greatest genius of the age. When he arose to speak, he was usually assailed 
with coughing, ironical cheers, affected laughter, and other tokens of dislike. 
Such things, of course, he could not ordinarily notice-, though he did, in one 
instance, stop to remark, that ' he could teach a pack of hounds to yelp with 
more melody and equal comprehension. 1 George Selwyn used to tell a story 
with much effect, of a country member who exclaimed, as Mr. Burke rose to 
speak with a paper in his hand, ' I hope the gentleman does not mean to read 
that large bundle of papers, and bore us with a speech into the bargain ! Mr. 
Burke was so much overcome, or rather suffocated with rage, that he was in- 
capable of utterance, and rushed out of the House. ' Never before, 1 said Sel- 
wyn, ' y I I see the fable realized, of a lion put to flight by the braying of an 



EDMUND BURKE. 157 

wasted away till on the 2d of May, 1794, when he expired, 
in the thirty-sixth year of his age. The scene which im- 
mediately preceded his departure is too affecting and 
mournful to be passed over: 

" The last moments of young Burke present one of those 
striking cases in which nature seems to rally all her 
powers at the approach of dissolution, as the taper often 
burns brightest in the act of going out. His parents were 
waiting his departure in an adjoining room (for they were 
unable to bear the sight), when he rose from his bed, 
dressed himself completely, and leaning on his nurse, en- 
tered the apartment where they were sitting. ' Speak to 
me, my dear father," said he, as he saw them bowed to the 
earth under the poignancy of their grief. ' I am in no terror; 
I feel myself better and in spirits; yet my heart flutters, I 
know not why ! Pray talk to me — of religion — of mo- 
rality — of indifferent subjects.' Then turning, he ex- 
claimed, ' What noise is that? Does it rain? Oh no, it is 
the rustling of the wind in the trees;' and broke out at 
once, with a clear, sweet voice, in that beautiful passage 
(the favorite lines of his father), from the Morning Hymn 
in Milton: 

His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, 
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, 
With every plant in sign of worship wave! 

He began again, and again repeated them with the same 
tenderness and fervor, bowing his head as in the act of 
worship, and then ' sunk into the arms of his parents as 
in a profound and sweet sleep.' It would be too painful 
to dwell on the scenes that followed, until the father laid 
all that remained to him of his child beneath the Beacons- 
field church, adjoining his estate." 

Mr. Burke lived only three years after the death of 
his son. This affliction, doubtless, tended to prostrate 
his energies and hasten his own dissolution, vr'Ach took 



15S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

place on the 9th of July, 1797, in the sixty -eighth year 
of his age. He died in the blessed hope of a glorious 
immortality. He hoped to obtain the divine mercy, as he 
declared, through the intercession of a blessed Redeemer, 
" which," to use his own words, " he had long sought 
with unfeigned humiliation, and to which he looked with 
a trembling hope." 

It is said that Mr. Burke spent the greater part of the 
last two days of his life in reading Wilberforce's Practical 
View; that he derived much comfort from it, and said that 
if he lived he would thank Wilberforce for having sent 
such a book into the world. 

The following touching lines on the death of Mr. Burke, 
were from the pen of an old friend: 

" 'Tis o'er: — that lamp is quench'd in endless night, 
Which Nature kindled at her purest flame - , 
By science fann'd, — if science could enhance. 
A genius from which science caught new rays; 
No, 'tis not quench'd; the spark ethereal lives, 
And it shall blaze along the track of time, 
While we, who joy'd beneath the radient beam, 
Shall mix unheeded with our kindred clay. 

That star is set, on earth to shine no more, 

On which admiring nations wond'ring gaz'd; 

That pow'rful stream of eloquence is dry, 

Which with commanding force o'erwhelm'ed the mind- 

Oh ! mourn for this, that from a barren world 

Such excellence is fled! But, public care 

Apart, in pensive solitude retired, 

Lamenting friendship drops the silei ttear. 

There tender recollection calls to mind 
The sweet benevolence which mark'd that mien ; 
That mien which unadmiring who could view! 
'Tis hers, with soft regret and pleasing pain, 
To trace the social and domestic scene, 
Where, ever shining, most of all he shone. 
She saw the lib'ral hand, the healing balms 



EDMUND BURKE. 159 

Dispense unboasting; and to haggard eyes, 
Bedimm'd with poverty, and pain, and care, 
The vivid rays of health, and hope restore. 
Th 1 unvarying friendship, and the candid mind, 
Prompt to forgive, and ready to atone, 
Were his.— And Oh! how close the tender ties 
Of father, husband, brother, bound his heart!' 

One of the greatest mei of the eighteenth century was 
Edmund Burke. On the page of history, his name will 
shine with the purest luster to the latest posterity. Man- 
kind will ever contemplate with admiration the charac- 
ter of this mighty Orator, Statesman and Philosopher, 
whose name is enrolled in the records of immortality, side 
by side with Cicero and Bacon. The amplitude of his 
mind — the exuberance of his fancy — the comprehensive- 
ness of his understanding — the subtilty of his intellect — 
the grandeur and variety of his expression — the magnifi- 
cence of his language — the richness and splendor of his 
eloquence, — and above all, the bounaless stores of know- 
ledge which he possessed, will always create delight and 
wonder in the mind. 

To assist us in forming a proper estimate of his oratori- 
cal character we must have recourse to the descriptive 
sketches of his cotemporaries, whose united opinion will 
corroborate what we unhesitatingly affirm, that in many 
respects Edmund Burke was the most consummate orator, 
the wisest statesman, and the most powerful debater the 
world has ever seen. 

" The variety and extent of his powers in debate was 
greater than that of any other orator in ancient or modern 
times. No one ever poured forth such a flood of thought 
— so many orignal combinations of inventive genius; so 
much knowledge of man and the working of political 
systems: so many just remarks on the relation of govern- 
ment to the manners, the spirit, and even the prejudices 
of a peopio; so many wise maxims as to a change in con- 



1(30 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

stitutions and laws; so many beautiful effusions of lofty 
and generous sentiment; such exuberant stores of illus- 
tration, ornament, and apt allusion; all intermingled with 
the liveliest sallies of wit or the boldest iiights of a sublime 
imagination." 

No one can contemplate Mr. Burke without admiring 
the vast extent of his knowledge, the beauty of hia 
imagery, the richness, variety, and splendor of his elo- 
quence. In what follows we have the leading traits of hia 
character as an orator noticed. 

Sir N. W. Wraxall, a parliamentary cotemporary, thus 
writes of Burke: " Nature had bestowed on him a boundless 
imagination, aided by a memory of equal strength and 
tenacity. His fancy was so vivid, that it seemed to light 
up by its own powers, and to burn without consuming the 
aliment on which it fed: sometimes bearing him away into 
ideal scenes created by his own exuberant mind, but from 
which he, sooner or later, returned to the subject of debate; 
descending from his most aerial flights by a gentle and 
imperceptible gradation, till he again touched the ground. 
Learning waited on him like a handmaid, presenting to 
his choice, all that antiquity has culled or invented, most 
elucidatory of the topic under discussion. He always 
seemed to be oppressed under the load and variety of his 
intellectual treasures. Every power of oratory was wielded 
by him in turn: for, he could be during the same evening, 
often within the space of a few minutes, pathetic and hu- 
morous; acrimonious and conciliating; now giving loose 
to his indignation or severity; and then, almost in the 
same breath, calling to his assistance, wit and ridicule. It 
would be endless to cite instances of this versatility of 
disposition, and of the rapidity of his transitions, 

' From grave to gay, from lively to severe,' 

that I have, myself, witnessed."* 

* Historical Memoirs, p. 203. 



EDMUND BURKE. 161 

" The political knowledge of Mr. Burke might be con- 
sidered almost as an Encyclopaedia; every man who ap- 
proached him received instruction from his stores. He 
irradiated every sphere in which he moved. What he 
was in public, he was in private; like the star which now 
precedes and now follows the sun, he was equally brilliant 
whether he 

' Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky, ' 

or led on with a milder luster the modest hosts of evening." 
" Let me," says Dr. Parr, " speak what my mind prompts 
of the eloquence of Burke — of Burke, by whose sweet- 
ness Athens herself would have been soothed, with whose 
amplitude and exuberance she would have been enraptured, 
and on whose lips that prolific mother of genius and 
science would have adored, confessed, the Goddess of 
Persuasion." " Who is there," adds the same learned 
critic, " among men of eloquence or learning more pro- 
foundly versed in every branch of science? Who is there 
that has cultivated philosophy, the parent of all that is 
illustrious in literature or exploit, with more felicitous 
success? Who is there that can transfer so happily the 
result of laborious and intricate research to the most 
familiar and popular topics? Who is there that possesses 
so extensive yet so accurate an acquaintance with every 
transaction recent or remote? Who is there that can 
deviate from his subject for the purposes of delight with 
such engaging ease, and insensibly conduct his readers 
from the severity of reasoning to the festivity of wit? Who 
is there that can melt them if the occasion requires with 
such resistless power to grief or pity? Who is there that 
combines the charm of inimitable grace and urbanity with 
such magnificent and boundless expansion?" 

In what high terms of praise and admiration do his co- 
temporaries speak of him as an orator! On viewing Balli- 
21 



162 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

tore, the scene of his early acquisitions in knowledge, 
one writes: "The admiration, nay astonishment, with 
which I so often listened to Mr. Burke gave an interest to 
every spot connected with his memory, and forcibly brought 
to my recollection the profundity and extent of his know- 
ledge, while the energy, warmth, and beauty of his 
imagery captured the heart and made the judgment tribu- 
tary to his w T ill As an orator he surpassed all his cotem- 
poraries, and w r as perhaps never exceeded." 

" As an orator," adds another, " notwithstanding some 
defects, he stands almost unrivaled. No man was better 
calculated to arouse the dormant passions, to call forth 
the glowing affections of the human heart, and to ' harrow 
up ' the inmost recesses of the soul. Venality and mean- 
ness stood appalled in his presence ; he who was dead to 
the feelings of his ow T n conscience was still alive to his 
animated reproaches; and corruption for awhile became 
alarmed at the terrors of his countenance." 

One of his biographers states, that in the more mechani- 
cal part of oratory -delivery, his manner was usually 
bold, less graceful than powerful, his enunciation vehem- 
ent, and unchecked by any embarrassment, his periods flow- 
ing and harmonious, his language ahvays forcible, some- 
times choice, but when strongly excited by the subject, acri- 
monious or sarcastic, his epithets numerous, and occasion- 
ally strong or coarse, his invective furious, and sometimes 
overpowering.* 

As an interesting sketch of Mr. Burke's manner and 
power in debate, drawn by an eye-witness, we introduce 
the graphic description of the Duke de Levis of France. 
The occasion, it is stated, was on the French Revolution: 

" The man whom I had the greatest desire to hear was 
the celebrated Mr. Burke, author of the Essay on the 
Sublime and Beautiful, and often himself sublime. At 

* Prions Life of Burke, vol. ii, p. 427. 



EDMUND BURKE. 163 

length he rose, but in beholding him I could scarcely re- 
cover from my surprise. I had so frequently heard his 
eloquence compared to that of Demosthenes and Cicero, 
that my imagination, associating him with those great 
names, had represented him to me in a noble and imposing 
garb. I certainly did not expect to iind him in the British 
Parliament dressed in the ancient toga ; nor was I prepared 
to see him in a tight brown coat, which seemed to impede 
every movement, and, above all, the little bob-wig with 
curls. * * * i u the mean time he moved into the 
middle of the House, contrary to the usual practice, for 
the members speak standing and uncovered, not leaving 
their places. But Mr. Burke, with the most natural air 
imaginable, with seeming humility, and with folded arms, 
began his speech in so low a tone of voice that I could 
scarcely hear him. Soon after, however, becoming ani- 
mated by degrees, he described religion attacked, the bonds 
of subordination broken, civil society threatened to its 
foundations; and in order to show that England could 
depend only upon herself, he pictured in glowing colors 
the political state of Europe; the spirit of ambition and 
folly which pervaded the greater part of her governments ; 
the culpable apathy of some, the weakness of all. When 
in the course of this grand sketch he mentioned Spain, 
that immense monarchy, which appeared to have fallen 
into a total lethargy, ' What can we expect, said he, ' from 
her? — mighty indeed, but unwieldy — vast in bulk, but 
inert in spirit — a whale stranded upon the sea-shore of 
Europe." The whole House was silent; all eyes were 
upon him, and this silence was interrupted only by the 
loud cries of Hear! hea"! a kind of accompaniment which 
the friends of the speaking member adopt in order to direct 
attention to the most brilliant passages of his speech. 
But these cheerings were superfluous on the present occa- 
sion; every mind was nvnl; the sentiments he expressed 



164 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

spread themselves with rapidity; every one shared his 
emotion, whether he represented the ministers of religion 
proscribed, inhumanty persecuted and banished, imploring 
the Almighty in a foreign land to forgive their ungrateful 
country; or when he depicted in the most affecting man- 
ner the misfortunes of the Royal Family, and the humilia- 
tion of the daughter of the Ctesars. Every eye was bathed 
in tears at the recital of these sad calamities supported 
with such heroic fortitude. Mr. Burke, then, by an easy 
transition, passed on to the exposition of those absurd 
attempts of inexperienced men to establish a chimerical 
liberty; nor did he spare the petulant vanity of upstarts 
in their pretended love for equality. The truth of these 
striking and animated pictures made the whole House pass 
in an instant from the tenderest emotions of feeling to 
bursts of laughter; never was the electric power of elo- 
quence more imperiously felt; this extraordinary man 
seemed to raise and quell the passions of his auditors 
with as much ease, and as rapidly, as a skillful musician 
passes into the various modulations of his harpsichord. I 
have witnessed many, too many political assemblages and 
striking scenes where eloquence performed a noble part, 
but the whole of them appear insipid when compared Avith 
this amazing effort." 

After sketching the oratorical character of the elder Pitt, 
an American reviewer thus vividly portrays that of Burke: 

iK Ere the orb of Pitt went down another luminary had 
risen, which was destined at length to fill the skies and 
brighten earth with its prolific radiance. That Edmund 
Burke is by far the greatest name in the annals of modern 
eloquence, and in some important respects in those of all 
eloquence, is a position which few probably will controvert. 

Had the claims of Burke rested only on that sort of 
merit which we have just conceded to Lord Chatham; had 
he left no other, or no more enduring memorials of his 



EDMUND BURKE. 165 

mind than Chatham left, his reputation would scarcely 
have survived to our time. He certainly was not remark- 
able for his powers of delivery. It was not by a command- 
ing person, a flashing eye, or voice of thunder, that he 
gained his triumphs. Neither was his the gladiatorial skill 
of a great debater. In most of these particulars he was 
indeed respectable; but they are not the foundation of his 
fame; — a fame which, though long since severed from all 
these artificial aids, has continued to grow and to spread. 

1 The blaze of eloquence 
Set with its sun; but still it left behind 
The enduring produce of immortal mind.' 

To great natural endowments this distinguished man 
added the stores of a profound and varied erudition. 
His imagination was brilliant and excursive. His taste 
was intuitively quick and correct. But the learning of 
Burke was not, like that of many, an inert and cumbrous 
load. It was something which he always carried with 
ease, and wielded with dexterity. At one time it was the 
rattling quiver of Apollo, from which he drew many a 
leathered shaft; at another, it was a battle-axe in his 
hands which would cleave the toughest skull.* 

* On reviewing the character of Edmund Burke, one asks with admiration: 
u Where shall we find among orators or statesmen so muck depth and origin- 
ality of thought, fullness of information, variety of diction, vigor of expres- 
sion, bold and sublime imagery; so much of grandeur and energy of eloquence, 
or of beautiful and impressive writing?" 

" His style," says Henry Rogers, " is equal to all the exigencies of thought, 
and transforms itself with every change of sentiment and emotion. It now 
puts on the decent simplicity, the unadorned grace suited to artless narration 
or didactive severity, and now arrays itself in all the pomp and gorgeousness 
•:f expression, to do justice to some splendid illustration or some sublime and 
elevated sentiment. At one time it flows on in gentle murmurs through scenes 
of exquisite and tranquil beauty, like the stream of summer-, at another, rolls 
on with the majestic flood of a full and mighty river, or pours out in foam and 
cataract, its terrible flood of waters." — Biographical and Critical Introduction 
to the works of Burke, Eng. ed.. vol. i. p. 47. 



166 ORATORS AND STA'l itJMEN. 

Equally remarkable was the character of his imagina- 
tion. This power with him was no wild spirit, playing 
fantastic tricks only to amuse and dazzle; but the hand- 
maid of reason — a creature as useful as she was beauti- 
ful. The ornament with which his diction abounds, 
rarely fails to illustrate and to strengthen his argument. 
It is this which gives vivacity and richness to his style, 
without impairing its strength; a trait by which he is 
distinguished, and which he never sacrificed to less effect- 
ive qualities. This property in Burke has not the severe 
simplicity of the Grecian master, nor the grace and flow 
of the great Roman model. It is rather a medium between 
the two; inferior in some respects, and in some superior 
to both. But the distinguishing excellence of Burke con- 
sists, undoubtedly, in the profound and comprehensive 
views which he brings to the discussion of his subjects. 
He seemed to be gifted with a deeper insight into the 
nature and tendencies of measures and events, than is 
allotted to common men. In his speeches and writings we 
are constantly meeting with general principles. Political 
science in his hands is no longer narrow and technical — 
a doctrine of mere expedients — for literature and philoso- 
phy, the testimony of experience and the teachings of 
common sense, all conspire to enhance its dignity, and to 
enforce its lessons. 

Burke was the orator and teacher, not of a day - not 
of a single nation, or his own age merely. His political 
and practical wisdom was based on the immutable founda- 
tion of truth and right. He had read, with intuitive eye 
and tenacious memory, the page of human nature, the 
book of Providence, and the library of universal histoiy. 
To these sterling qualities of mind, he added unquestioned 
honesty of purpose, and a philanthropic heart. Who 
could be better fitted, or entitled to become the instructor 
of his race? And such he has become. To his works, as 



EDMUND BURKE. 167 

to an exhaustless storehouse of principles and reasoning, do 
the statesmen of England and America resort. And thither 
will they no doubt resort, until a greater than Burke shall 
appear among the Commons of Britain or in the halls of 
Congress." 

We can not conclude the sketch of this wonderful man, 
without adding the magnificent eulogies of Sheridan and 
G rattan: 

" To whom," said Sheridan, "I look up with homage, 
whose genius is commensurate to his philanthropy, whoso 
memory will stretch itself beyond the Heeting objects of 
any little, partial, temporary shuffling, through the whole 
range of human knowledge and honorable aspirations after 
human good, as large as the system which forms life, as 
lasting as those objects which adorn it;" " A gentleman 
whose abilities, happily for the glory of the age in which 
we live, are not entrusted to the perishable eloquence of 
the day, but will live to be the admiration of that hour 
when all of us shall be mute, and most of us forgotten." 

" His immortality," says Grattan, " is that which is com- 
mon to Cicero or to Bacon — that which can never 
be interrupted while there exists the beauty of order or 
the love of virtue, and which can fear no death except 
what barbarity may impose upon the globe." 



CHAPTER IV. 



HENRY GRATTAN 

Henry Grattan was born at Dublin on the 3d of July,, 
1746. At the age of seventeen he entered Trinity College. 
Dublin, where he soon became distinguished for the bril- 
liancy of his imagination, for his diligence as a student, 
for the impetuosity of his feelings, and for the energy of his 
character. Graduating in 1767, with a high literary repu- 
tation, he repaired to London, and commenced the study 
of the law. He had been there but a short time, pursuing 
his literary and professional studies, when politics began 
to engage his attention. He attended the debates in Par- 
liament, and became an enthusiastic admirer of the great- 
est orator of the day. It was then that Lord Chatham, in 
the zenith of his fame, was sending forth those inimitable 
bolts of eloquence, which electrified and shook the British 
senate. The wonderful oratory of this great man made a 
powerful impression on the glowing mind of young Grat- 
tan, who listened with indescribable pleasure to those 
grand bursts of declamation which rolled from the lips of 
the orator. Bold, nervous, and fiery, the eloquence of 
Chatham was perfectly suited to the nature of the impetu- 
ous young Irishman; upon whom it acted "with such 
fascination, as seemed completely to form his destiny." 
He now determined to become an orator and chose Lord 
Chatham as his model. " Every thing was forgotten in 
the one great object of cultivating his powers as a public 
speaker. To emulate and express, through the peculiar 



HENRY GRATTAN. 169 

forms of his own genius, the lofty conceptions of the 
great English orator, was from this time the object of 
his continual study and most fervent aspirations."* 

Returning to Ireland in 1772, Mr. Grattan became a 
member of the Irish Parliament, in 1775.f 

The one great object which he had in view, during his 
brilliant political career, was the complete independence 
of his country. Ireland had been long treated by the 
English like a conquered nation. During the reign of 
George the First, an act was passed, asserting " that Ireland 
was a subordinate and dependent kingdom; — that the 
Kings, Lords, and Commons of England had power to 
make laws to bind Ireland; — that the Irish House of 
Lords had no jurisdiction, and that all proceedings before 
that court were void." Mr. Grattan determined that the 
Parliament of his country should be free if it was in his 
power to break the chains thrown around her. He re- 
solved to effect the repeal of this arbitrary act Accord- 

* t: Even in those early days, Grattan was preparing sedulously for his 
future destination. He had taken a residence near Windsor Forest, and there 
it was his custom to rove about moonlight, addressing the trees as if they were 
an audience. His landlady took such manifestations much to heart. ; What 
a sad thing it was,' she would say, ' to see the poor young gentleman all day 
talking to somebody he calls Mr. Speaker, when there's no speaker in the 
house except himself! 1 Her mind was clearly made up upon the subject." — 
Curran and his Contemporaries, p. 86. 

t Contemporary with Mr. Grattan, and a warm friend of his, was the 
famous Peter Burro wes another orator of Ireland, noted, above all, for his 
absent-mindedness. " He was," says Charles Phillips, " a most singular per- 
sonage, uniting to an intellect the most profound, the most childlike simplicity. 
"Though walking on the earth, he seldom saw or heard any thing round him. 
As he rolled his portly figure through the streets, his hands in his breeches 
pockets, and his eyes glaring on his oldest friend as if he had never seen him, 
it was plain to all men that Peter was in the moon. It is recorded of him, 
that, on circuit, a brother barrister found him at breakfast-time standing by 
the fire with an egg in his hand and his watch in the saucepan!" 

The following is another example of this nature : "A murder, which caused 
tr^ch excitement, had been committed, and Mr. Burrowes had to state the case 
22 



170 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ingly on the 19th of April, 1780, he made his memorable 
motion for a Declaration of Irish Right, which denied the 
authority of the British Parliament to make laws for Ire- 
land. In taking this bold step, Mr. Grattan was cheered 
on by the whole body of the Irish nation. The speech 
which he delivered on that occasion in support of his 
motion " was the most splendid piece of eloquence that 
had ever been heard in Ireland." It was always regarded 
by the orator himself as the greatest triumph of his elo- 
quence* " As a specimen of condensed and fervid argu- 
mentation," says Prof. Goodrich, " it indicates a high order 
of talent; while in brilliancy of style, pungency of appli- 
cation, and impassioned vehemence of spirit, it has rarely, 
if ever, been surpassed. The conclusion, especially, is one 
of the most magnificent passages in our eloquence." In 
the boldest tone, Mr. Grattan thus finished his speech: 

" I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand 
my liberty. I do call upon you by the laws of the land, 
and their violation ; by the instructions of eighteen coun- 
ties; by the arms, inspiration, and providence of the pre- 
sent moment — tell us the rule by which w r e shall go; 
assert the law of Ireland; declare the liberty of the land! 
I will not be answered by a public lie, in the shape of an 
amendment; nor, speaking for the subjects' freedom, am I 
to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe in 
this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the 
air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be to break 
your chain and contemplate your glory, I never will be 
satisfied so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland 

for the prosecution. In one hand — having a heavy cold — he held a box of 
lozenges, and in the other the small pistol bullet by which the man met his 
death Ever and anon, between the pauses in his address, he kept supplying 
himself with a lozenge, until at last, in the very middle of a sentence, his 
bosom heaving and his eyes starting, a perfect picture of horror, Peter bel- 
lowed out, ' Oh — h — h — gentlemen — by the heaven above me — Tve swal- 
lowed the bullet '" 



HENRY GRATT AN. 171 

lias a link of the British chain clanking to his rags. He 
may be naked, he shall not be in irons. And I do see the 
time at hand; the spirit is gone forth; the Declaration of 
Right is planted; and though great men should fall off 
yet the cause shall live; and though he who utters this 
should die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the humble 
organ who conveys it, and the breath of liberty, like the 
word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but 
survive him."* 

Mr. Grattan's motion did not pass at that time; but, not- 
withstanding his temporary defeat, he never, for a moment, 
faltered; — he ever kept his eye fixed on Parliamentary 
emancipation. Nothing short of this could satisfy the 
spirit of liberty that glowed within his patriotic bosom. 
The same spirit pervaded Ireland; the nation rose in 
arms and demanded their liberty. Mr. Grattan availed 
himself of this general enthusiasm; and mainly by his 
efforts carried the Irish Revolution of 1782, thus achieving 
a victory " which," to use the words of Lord Brougham, 
" stands at the head of all the triumphs ever won by a 
patriot for his country in modern times; he had effected 
an important revolution in the government without vio- 
lence of any kind, and had broken chains of the most 
degrading kind by which the injustice and usurpation of 
three centuries had bowed her down." 

It was on the 16th of April, 1782, while his countrymen 
were armed, ready for open rebellion, that Mr. Grattan 
repeated his motion in the Irish House of Commons for a 
Declaration of Irish Right. His speech on that occasion 



* 41 The reader will be interested to observe the rhythmus of the last three 
paragraphs; so slow and diguified in its movement; so weighty as it falls on 
the ear ; so perfectly adapted to the sentiments expressed in this magnificent 
passage. The effect will be heightened by comparing it with the rapid and iam- 
bic movement of the passage containing Mr. Erskine's description of the 
Indian chief." — Goodrich. 



172 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

tvas universally admired for its " boldness, sublimity, and 
compass of thought." The unwearied efforts of the orator 
were at length crowned with complete success. The griev- 
ances of Ireland were redressed, a bill repealing the act of 
George the First was soon after passed; and Mr. Grattan 
was congratulated by shouting thousands on his success, 
and hailed throughout Ireland as the deliverer of his 
country. " Her chains fell off* as at the bidding of an 
enchanter. Her commerce free, and her independence 
recognized, Ireland took her place among the nations, un- 
fettered, save by gratitude to him, her child — her more 
than champion, her deliverer — who, with fire-touched 
lips and lion heart, achieved her liberty. Captive to him 
she was, and willingly. If it be a grand and noble specta- 
cle to see the sovereign of a state rewarding service, 
whether rendered on flood or field, or in the more peace- 
ful labors of the forum or the senate — as assuredly it is — 
how much more grand, how much more touching is it to 
see a nation on its knees, offering a heart-homage to the 
patriotism that had redeemed it!" 

The services of Mr. Grattan were remunerated by a 
grant of .£100,000 from the Parliament of Ireland. His 
noble heart, beating only for his country's happiness and 
glory, at first led him to decline the reception of this high 
expression of gratitude; but by the interposition of his 
friends, he was, subsequently, induced to accept one-half 
the amount granted. 

Shortly after this victory, Mr. Grattan was led into a 
personal quarrel with Mr. Flood, a rival member of Par- 
liament. The animosity had arisen to such a height that 
Mr. Flood stigmatized his opponent as " a mendicant patriot, 
subsisting on the public accounts — who, bought by his 
country for a sum of money, had sold his country for 
prompt payment." He also sneered at Mr. Grattan 
" aping the style of Lord Chatham." Grattan immediately 



HENRY GRATlAN. 173 

replied in an overwhelming invective, " depicting the 
character and political life of his opponent, and ingeni- 
ously darkening every shade that rested on his reputa- 
tion." 

" It is not the slander of an evil tongue," said Mr. Grat- 
tan, " that can defame me. I maintain my reputation in 
public and in private life. No man, who has not a bad 
character, can ever say that I deceived. No country can 
call me a cheat. But I will suppose such a public char- 
acter. I w r ill suppose such a man to have existence. I 
will begin with his character in his political cradle, and I 
will follow him to the last stage of political dissolution. 

" With regard to the liberties of America, which were 
inseparable from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to 
have been an enemy decided and unreserved; that he 
voted against her liberty, and voted, moreover, for an ad- 
dress to send four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats 
of the Americans; that he called these butchers ' armed 
negotiators,' and stood with a metaphor in his mouth and 
a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of 
America, — of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the 
only refuge of the liberties of mankind. Thus defective 
in every relationship, whether to constitution, commerce, 
and toleration, I will suppose this man to have added much 
private improbity to public crimes; that his probity was 
like his patriotism, and his honor on a level with his oath. 
He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt 
him, and say: 

" Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your 
talents have been as great as your life has been reprehen- 
sible. You began your parliamentary career with an acri- 
mony and personality which could have been justified only 
by a supposition of virtue; after a rank and clamorous 
opposition, you became, on a sudden, silent; you w r ere 
silent for seven years; you were silent on the greatest 



174 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

questions, and you were silent for money! You supported 
the unparalleled profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourt's 
scandalous ministry. You, Sir, who manufacture stage 
thunder against Mr. Eden for his anti-American princi- 
ples— you, Sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the 
immortal Hampden; — you, Sir, approved of the tyranny 
exercised against America, — and you, Sir, voted four 
thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans 
fighting for their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fight- 
ing for the great principle, liberty! But you found, at 
last, that the Court had bought, but would not trust you. 
Mortified at the discovery, you try the sorry game of a 
trimmer in your progress to the acts of an incendiary; 
and observing, with regard to Prince and People, the 
most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the 
suspicion of your Sovereign by betraying the Government, 
as you had sold the People. Such has been your conduct, 
and at such conduct every order of your fellow-subjects 
have a right to exclaim! The merchant may say to you, 
the constitutionalist may say to you, the American may 
say to you, — and I, I now say, and say to your beard, Sir, — 
you are not an honest man!" 

The invectives of Mr. Grattan, like those of Lord Chat- 
ham, were terrible. One of the most scathing pieces of 
this kind which he ever pronounced, was that against Mr. 
Corry, Chancellor of the Exchequer, delivered during 
the debate on the union of Ireland with England, Febru- 
ary 14, 1800. It led to a duel between Grattan and Corry, 
jn which the latter was wounded in the arm. The oc- 
casion of Mr. Grattan's satirical speech was a remark 
from Mr. Corry that his opponent instead of having a 
voice in the councils of his country, should have been 
standing as a culprit at her Bar. As this is one of the 
most powerful invectives to be found in the English lan- 
guage we quote it a 1 " length: 



HENRY GRATTAN. 175 

"Has the gentleman done? Has lie completely done? 
He was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of 
his speech. There w as scarce a word that he uttered that 
was not a violation of the privileges of the House; but I 
did not call him to order. Why? Because the limited 
talents of some men render it impossible for them to be 
severe without being unparliamentary; but before I sit 
down I shall show him how to be severe and parliamen- 
tary at the same time. On any other occasion I should 
think myself justifiable in treating with silent contempt 
any thing which might fall from that honorable member; 
but there are times when the insignificance of the accuser 
is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. I know the 
difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under when he 
attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of our 
characters, public and private, there is nothing he could 
say which would injure me. The public would not believe 
the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge 
were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the 
manner I shall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply 
to it when not made by an honest man. 

" The right honoiable gentleman has called me ' an un- 
impeached traitor/' I ask, why not * traitor,' unqualified 
by any epithet? I will tell him; it was because he dare 
not It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to 
strike, but has n<»t courage to give the blow. 1 will not 
call him a villain, because it would be unparliamentary, 
and he is a privy counselor. I will not call him a fool, 
because he happens to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; 
bat I say he is one who has abused the privilege of Parlia- 
ment and the freedom of debate, to the uttering language 
which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only 
with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low 
his character, how contemp.tible his speech; whether a 
privy counselor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow. 



176 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

He has charged me with being connected with the rebfls. 
The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 
honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of 
Lords for the foundation of his assertion? If he does, I 
can prove to the committee there was a physical impossi- 
bility of that report being true; but I scorn to answer 
any man for my conduct, whether he be a political cox- 
comb, or whether he brought himself into power by a false 
glare of courage or not. 

" I have returned not, as the right honorable member has 
said, to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge 
an honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that con- 
ferred a great reward for past services, which, I am proud 
to say, was not greater than my desert. I have returned 
to protect that Constitution of which I was the parent and 
the founder, from the assassination of such men as the 
honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. They 
are corrupt — they are seditious — and they, at this very 
moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have 
returned to refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given 
to the public under the appellation of a report of the 
committee of the Lords. Here I stand, ready for impeach- 
ment or trial; I dare accusation. I defy the honorable 
gentleman; I defy the government; I defy the whole pha- 
lanx. Let them come forth. I tell the ministers I will 
neither give them quarter nor take it. I am here to lay 
the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of 
this House, in defense of the liberties of my country. 

" The right honorable gentleman has said that this was 
not my place — that, instead of having a voice in the 
councils of my country, I should now stand a culprit at 
her bar — at the bar of a court of criminal judicature, to 
answer for my treasons. The Irish people have not so 
read my history; but let that pass; -if I am what he said I 
am, the people are not therefore to forfeit their Constitu- 



HENRY GRATTAN. 177 

tion. In point of argument, therefore, the attack is bad — 
in point of taste or feeling, if he had either, it is worse — 
in point of fact, it is false, utterly and absolutely false — as 
rancorous a falsehood as the most malignant motives 
could suggest to the prompt sympathy of a shameless and 
a venal defense. The right honorable gentleman has sug- 
gested examples which I should have shunned, and exam- 
ples which I should have followed. I shall never follow 
his, and I have ever avoided it. I shall never be ambitious 
to purchase public scorn by private infamy — the lighter 
characters of the model have as little chance of weaning 
me from the habits of a life spent, if not exhausted, in 
the cause of my native land. Am I to renounce those 
habits now forever, and at the beck of whom? I should 
rather say of what — half a minister — half a monkey — a 
'prentice politician, and a master coxcomb. He has told 
you that what he said of me here, he would say anywhere. 
I believe he would say thus of me in any place where he 
thought himself safe in saying it. Nothing can limit his 
calumnies but his fears — in Parliament he has calumni- 
ated me to-night, in the King's courts he would calumniate 
me to-morrow; but had he said or dared to insinuate one- 
half as much elsewhere, the indignant spirit of an honest 
man would have answered the vile and venal slanderer 
with — a blow." 

Mr Grattan was always vehemently opposed to the 
union of Ireland with England. To prevent it in 1800, 
when the question was strongly discussed, he delivered a 
speech of unrivaled power in argumentation and invective, 
from which the following eloquent passage is taken: 

" The ministers of the Crown will, or may, perhaps, at 

length find that it is not so easy, by abilities, however 

great, and by power and corruption, however irresistible, 

to put down forever an ancient and respectable Nation. 

Liberty may repair her golden beams, and with redoubled 
23 



178 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

heat animate the country. The cry of loyalty will not 
long continue against the principles of liberty. Loyalty 
is a noble, a judicious, and a capacious principle; but in 
these countries, loyalty, distinct from liberty, is corruption, 
not loyalty. 

"The cry of disaffection will not, in the end, avail 
against the principles of liberty. Yet I do not give up the 
country. I see her in a swoon, but she is not dead 
Though in her tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still 
there is on her lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow 
of beauty: 

' Thou art not conquered 5 beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
And Death's pale flag is not advanced there.' 

" While a plank of the vessel sticks together, I will not 
leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and 
carry the light bark of his faith with every new breath of 
wind; I will remain anchored here, with fidelity to the 
fortunes of my country, faithful to her freedom, faithful 
to her fall!" 

His countrymen were so much divided that the efforts 
of Mr. Grattan were unavailing. In vain did he exert his 
oratorical powers on this subject. 

In 1805, Mr. Grattan became a member of the British 
Parliament, where he stood proudly eminent among the 
leading orators and statesmen of the age. " His debut 
in the Imperial Parliament," says Charles Phillips, " was 
a bold and hazardous experiment. He had told Flood, 
and somewhat prophetically,, ' that an oak of the forest 
was too old to be transplanted at fifty;' and yet here he 
was himself! whether he would take root was the ques- 
tion; and for some moments very questionable it was 
When he rose, every voice in that crowded House was 
hushed — the great rivals, Pitt and Fox, riveted their eyes 
on him — he strode forth and gesticulated — the hush be- 



HENRY GRATTAN. 179 

came ominous — not a cheer was heard — men looked in 
one another's faces, and then at the phenomenon before 
them, as if doubting his identity; at last, and on a sud- 
den, the indication of the master-spirit came. Pitt was 
the first generously to recognize it; he smote his thigh 
hastily with his hand — it was an impulse when he was 
pleased — his followers saw it, and knew it, and with a 
universal burst they hailed the advent and the triumph of 
the stranger." 

Soon after he had become a member of the Imperial 
Legislature, he delivered the speech on the Catholic ques- 
tion, which contains that highly figurative expression — 
one of the finest passages of such eloquence that can be 
found in our language. Referring to the rise and fall of 
the parliamentary independence of his country, he said, — 
"The Parliament of Ireland! of that assembly I have a 
parental recollection. I sat by her cradle. — I followed her 
hearse!"* 

Although a Protestant, Mr. Grattan was a bold and 
zealous advocate of the claims of the Catholics, and to 
their entire emancipation, his parliamentary exertions were 
principally confined during his political career. 

The earthly course of this great orator and patriot was 
terminated at London, on the 14th of May, 1820. He was 
buried in Westminster Abbey, with the highest honors of 
a grateful nation. 

Charles Phillips thus describes the personal appearance 
of Mr. Grattan: " He was short in stature, and unprepos- 
sessing in appearance. His arms were disproportionably 
long. His walk was a stride. With a person swaying like 

* Rufus Choate might have had this striking passage in his mind when he 
uttered the following touching sentiment. Speaking of the fidelity of his 
native state to the Constitution, he says, " Massachusetts will ever be true to 
the Constitution. She sat among the most affectionate at its cradle; she will 
follow, the sadi'st of the procession of sorrow, the hearse.'''' 



ISO ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

a pendulum, and an abstracted air, lie seemed always in 
thought, and each thought provoked an attendant gesticu- 
lation. Such was the outward and visible form of one 
whom the passenger would stop to stare at as a droll, and 
the philosopher to contemplate as a study. How strange 
it seems that a mind so replete with grace and symmetry, 
and power and splendor, should have been allotted such a 
dwelling for its residence. Yet so it was; and so also was 
it one of his highest attributes, that his genius, by its 
' excessive light,' blinded the hearer to his physical imper- 
fections. It w T as the victory of mind over matter. The 
man was forgotten in the orator." 

In closing the historical sketch of this great man we 
would present the outlines of his character as an orator. 
" The style of his speaking," says his son, " was strikingly 
remarkable, — bold, figurative, and impassioned; — always 
adapted to the time and circumstance, and peculiarly well 
suited to the taste and temper of the audience that he had 
to address. In the latter part of his career, his arguments 
were more closely arranged; there was less ornament, but 
more fact and reasoning; less to dazzle the sight, and more 
to convince the understanding." 

It will be remembered that Mr. Grattan endeavored to 
form his manner of speaking after the style of Lord Chat- 
ham. In many respects his eloquence resembled that of 
the great English statesman. Like him, he excelled in the 
highest characteristics of oratory — in vehemence of 
action — condensation of style — rapidity of thought — 
closeness of argumentation — striking figures — grand 
metaphors — beautiful rhythmus — luminous statements — 
vivid descriptions — touching pathos — lofty declama- 
tion — bitter sarcasm, and fierce invective. His language, 
like that of Chatham, is remarkable for its terseness, ex- 
pressiveness, and energy. His periods are made up of 
short clauses which flash upon the mind with uncommon 



HENRY GRATTAN 181 

vividness. Passing over the minutiae of his discourse, he 
seized the principal points in debate and presented them 
in the strongest light. The intensity of feeling by which 
his mental operations were governed gave rise to this 
characteristic of eloquence, which distinguishes the most 
powerful orators. Aiming directly at his object, he gen- 
erally struck the decisive blow in a few words. 

" Deep emotion strikes directly at its object. It struggles 
to get free from all secondary ideas — all mere accesso- 
ries. Hence the simplicity, and even bareness of thought, 
which we usually find in the great passages of Chatham 
and Demosthenes. The whole turns often on a single 
phrase, a word, an allusion. They put forward a few great 
objects, sharply defined, and standing boldly out in the 
glowing atmosphere of emotion. They pour their burn- 
ing thoughts instantaneously upon the mind, as a person 
might catch the rays of the sun in a concave mirror, and 
turn them on their object with a sudden and consuming 
power." 

The eloquence of Mr. Grattan may be compared to a 
deep and rapid stream, now sweeping in smoothness and 
beauty through " verdant vales and flowery meads," and 
now dashing abruptly over some lofty precipice, delighting 
and astonishing the beholder by its majestic fall and tre- 
mendous roar. 

"Among the orators, as among the statesmen of his 
age, Mr. Grattan occupies a place in the foremost rank; 
and it was the age of the Pitts, the Foxes, and the Sheri- 
dans. His eloquence was of a very high order, all but of 
the very highest, and it was eminently original. In the 
constant stream of a diction replete with epigram and 
point — a stream on which floated gracefully, because 
naturally, flowers of various hues, — was poured forth the 
closest reasoning, the most luminous statement, the most 
persuasive display of all the motives that could influence, 



18? ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and of all the details that could enlighten his audience 
Often a different strain was heard, and it was declamatory 
and vehement — or pity was to be moved, and its pathos 
was as touching as it was simple — or above all, an ad- 
versary sunk in baseness, or covered with crimes, was to 
be punished or to be destroyed, and a storm of the most 
terrible invective raged, with all the blights of sarcasm, 
and the thunders of abuse."* 

In a splendid critique on the genius of Grattan, Prof. 
Goodrich observes, " The speeches of Mr. Grattan afford 
unequivocal proof, not only of a powerful intellect, but 
of high and original genius. There was nothing common- 
place in his thoughts, his images, or his sentiments. 
Every thing came fresh from his mind, with the vividness 
of a new creation. His most striking characteristic was, 
condensation and rapidity of thought. ' Semper instans 
sibi,' pressing continually upon himself, he never dwelt 
upon an idea, however important; he rarely presented it 
under more than one aspect; he hardly ever stopped to fill 
out the intermediate steps of his argument. His forte was 
reasoning, but it was ' logic on fire;' and he seemed ever 
to delight in flashing his ideas on the mind with a sudden, 
startling abruptness. Hence, a distinguished writer has 
spoken of his eloquence as a ' combination of cloudy whirl- 
wind, and flame ' — a striking representation of the occa- 
sional obscurity and the rapid force and brilliancy of his 
style. But his incessant effort to be strong made him 
sometimes unnatural. He seems to be continually strain- 
ing after effect. He wanted that calmness and self-possess- 
ion which mark the highest order of minds, and show 
their consciousness of great strength. When he had mas- 
tered his subject, his subject mastered him. His great 
efforts have too much the air of harangues. They sound 

* Brougham's Historical Sketches of Statesmen, vol. i, p. 225, 



HENRY GRATTAN. 183 

more like the battle speeches of Tacitus than the orations 
of Demosthenes. 

" His style was elaborated with great care. It abounds in 
metaphors, which are always striking, and often grand. 
It is full of antithesis and epigrammatic turns, which give 
it uncommon point and brilliancy, but have too often an 
appearance of labor and affectation. His language is 
select. His periods are easy and fluent — made up of 
short clauses, with but few or brief qualifications, all 
uniting in the expression of some one leading thought 
His rhythmus is often uncommonly fine. In the perora- 
tion of his great speech of April 19th, 1780, we have one 
of the best specimens in our language of that admirable 
adaptation of the sound to the sense which distinguished 
the ancient orators. 

" Though Mr. Grattan is not a safe model in every respect, 
there are certain purposes for which his speeches may be 
studied with great advantage. Nothing can be better 
suited to break up a dull monotony of style — to give 
raciness and point — to teach a young speaker the value 
of that terse and expressive language which is to the ora- 
tor, especially, the finest instrument of thought." 

We have the delivery of Mr. Grattan vividly described 
by Charles Phillips: "The chief difficulty in this great 
speaker's way was the first five minutes. During his 
exordium laughter was imminent. He bent his body 
almost to the ground, swung his arms over his head, 
up and down and around him, and added to the gro- 
tesqueness of his manner a hesitating tone and drawling 
emphasis. Still there was an earnestness about him 
that at first besought, and, as he warmed, enforced, 
nay, commanded attention. The elevation of his mind, 
the grandeur of his diction, the majesty of his declama- 
tion, the splendor of his imagery, and the soundness of 
his logic, displayed in turn the ascendancy of a genius 



1 S 4 ORATORS AND STATESMEN . 

whose sway was irresistible. He was fine and judicious 
in his panegyric; but his forte — that which seemed to 
conjure up and concentrate all his faculties — was the 
overwhelming, withering severity of his invective. It 
was like the torrent-lava; brilliant, inevitable, fatal. It 
required such qualifications to overcome the peculiarity 
of his appearance, and the disadvantages of hi s manner. 
Truly indeed might it be said of him, as he said of Chat- 
ham, ' he was very great and very odd.'' For a time the 
eye dissented from the verdict of the mind; but at last 
his genius carried all before it, and, as in the oracle of 
old, the contortions vanished as the inspiration became 
manifest." 

The character of Mr. Grattan was irreproachable. It 
was remarked by Sir James Mackintosh, that he was as 
eminent in his observance of all the duties of private life, 
as he was heroic in the discharge of his public ones. He 
may be said to have lived only for his country, and died 
in advocating her cause. Wilberforce declared that he 
never knew a man whose patriotism and love for his 
country seemed so completely to extinguish all private 
interests, and to induce him to look invariably and exclu- 
sively to the public good. 

Of Grattan it may then truly be said: "No government 
ever dismayed him; the world could not bribe him; he 
thought only of Ireland; lived for no other object; dedi- 
cated to her his beautiful fancy, his manly courage, and 
all the splendor of his astonishing eloquence." 




CHARLES JAMES FOX. 



From the Original by Opie. 



CHAPTER VI. 



CHAKLES JAMES FOX. 

Charles James Fox was born on the 24th of January, 
1749. He was the second son of Lord Holland, the great 
antagonist of Lord Chatham. Lord Holland, who was a 
man of dissolute habits, resolved to lead his son in the 
same ruinous pathway, and yet to make him an orator 
and a statesman. Young Charles, though much indulged 
by his father, gave great promise of future eminence in 
literature and oratory. He early manifested those won- 
derful powers of memory, and that frankness, intrepidity, 
and brilliant wit for which he was ever afterwards dis- 
tinguished. At a private school, where he was sent from 
childhood, he made rapid progress in the acquisition of 
classical literature. " Here he laid the foundation of that 
intimate acquaintance with the classics, for which he was 
distinguished beyond most men of his age. He can hardly 
be said to have studied Latin or Greek after he was six- 
teen years old. So thoroughly was he grounded in these 
languages from boyhood, that he read them throughout 
life as much as he read English, and could turn to the 
great authors of antiquity at any moment, not as a mental 
effort, but for the recreation and delight he found in their 
pages. 

This was especially true of the Greek writers, which 

were then less studied in England than at present. He 

took up Demosthenes as he did the speeches of Lord 

Chatham, and dwelt with the same zest on the Greek tra- 
24 



186 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

gedians as on the plays of Shakespeare. As an oratoi, he 
was much indebted to his study of the Greek writers for 
the simplicity of his taste, his severe abstinence from 
every thing like mere ornament, the terseness of his style., 
the point and stringency of his reasonings, and the all- 
pervading cast of intellect which distinguishes his speeches, 
even in his most vehement bursts of impassioned feeling." 

After remaining four years at Eaton, where he maintained 
the highest rank as a scholar, he was removed to Oxford. 
Here he devoted the most of his time to severe mental 
application. He, however, pursued a course of study 
entirely suited to his own taste. He had but little relish 
for mathematical or political science. " His studies were 
confined almost entirely to the classics and history; he 
paid but little attention to the mathematics, a neglect which 
he afterwards lamented as injurious to his mental training; 
and perhaps for this reason he never felt the slightest 
interest, at this or any other subsequent period, in those 
abstract inquiries which are designed to settle the founda- 
tions of morals and political science. His tastes were too 
exclusively literary. With those habits of self-indulgence 
so unhappily created in childhood, he rarely did any thing 
but what he liked — he read poetry, eloquence, history, 
and elegant literature, because he loved them, and read 
but little else." Throughout life the classics were his 
constant companions. He corresponded with several of 
the most eminent literary men of the age, on the nicest 
questions of Greek and Latin criticism. 

Leaving the University at the age of seventeen, Mr 
Fox traveled two years on the Continent, where he made 
great proficiency in Italian and French literature. 

In November, 1768, he took his seat in Parliament as a 
warm supporter of the Duke of Grafton's ministry, and 
delivered his maiden speech on the 15th of April, 1769. 
When Lord North's administration commenced in 1770, 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. ] 87 

Mr. Fox was appointed a junior Lord of the Admiralty. 
In the House, he now began to display those extraordinary 
powers of eloquence for which he was distinguished beyond 
almost every other statesman of his time. We shall soon 
have occasion to speak of the nature of his oratory. 

There is one dark shade resting on the character of 
Fox — his unhappy passion for gambling. So entirely was 
he under the influence of this passion, that, to a friend 
who asked him what was the greatest happiness in life, he 
replied, " To play and win;" — being asked what was the 
next greatest, he replied, " To play and lose." It is said 
that, in the early part of his political career, he often lost 
from five to ten thousand pounds at a single sitting. 

It is gratifying, however, to find Mr. Fox, subsequently 
forming more correct habits, — changing his political prin- 
ciples, and becoming an ardent champion in the cause of 
liberty throughout the world. When American taxation 
became the absorbing topic of the day, he entered at once 
with his whole soul into the cause of the Colonies, and 
was the first man in the House, who came forward and 
took the bold ground of denying the right of Parliament 
to tax the Americans without their consent. He became 
associated with Burke, Dunning, Barre, and the other 
leaders of that noble band in Parliament, whose sole aim 
was to overturn the administration of Lord North, and to 
advance the cause of freedom in our oppressed country. 
Mr. Fox was among those lovers of liberty — of popular 
governments — of free institutions, — who rejoiced at the 
resistance and triumphs of America over British arms. In 
a speech in 1780, showing the results of the American 
war, he expressed such feelings in the following beautiful, 
glowing language: 

" We are charged with expressing joy at the triumphs of 
America. True it is that, in a former session, I proclaimed 
it as my sincere opinion, that if the Ministry had sue- 



188 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ceeded in their first scheme on the liberties of America, 
the liberties of this country would have been at an end. 
Thinking this, as I did, in the sincerity of an honest heart s 
I rejoiced at the resistance which the Ministry had met to 
their attempt. That great and glorious statesman, the 
late Earl of Chatham, feeling for the liberties of his na- 
tive country, thanked God that America had resisted. 
But, it seems, ' all the calamities of the country are to be 
ascribed to the wishes, and the joy, and the speeches, of 
Opposition.' 0, miserable and unfortunate ministry! 0, 
blind and incapable men! whose measures are framed with 
so little foresight, and executed with so little firmness, 
that they not only crumble to pieces, but bring on the 
ruin of their country, merely because one rash, weak, or 
wicked man, in the House of Commons, makes a speech 
against them! 

" But who is he who arraigns gentlemen on this side of 
the House with causing, by their inflammatory speeches, 
the misfortunes of their country? The accusation comes 
from one whose inflammatory harangues have led the 
Nation, step by step, from violence to violence, in that in- 
human, unfeeling system of blood and massacre, which 
every honest man must detest, which every good man must 
abhor, and every wise man condemn ! And this man im- 
putes the guilt of such measures to those who had all 
along foretold the consequences; who had prayed, en- 
treated and supplicated, not only for America, but for the 
credit of the Nation and its eventful welfare, to arrest the 
hand of Power, meditating slaughter, and directed by 
injustice ! 

" What was the consequence of the sanguinary measures 
recommended in those bloody, inflammatory speeches? 
Though Boston was to be starved, though Hancock and 
Adams were proscribed, yet at the feet of these very men 
the Parliament of Great Britain was obliged to kneel, 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 189 

flatter, and cringe ; and, as it had the cruelty at one time 
to denounce vengeance against these men, so it had the 
meanness afterwards to implore their forgiveness. Shall 
he who called the Americans ' Hancock and his crew, 5 — 
shall he presume to reprehend any set of men for inflam- 
matory speeches? It is this accursed American war that 
has led us, step by step, into all our present misfortunes 
and national disgraces. What was the cause of our 
wasting forty millions of money, and sixty thousand lives? 
The American war! What was it that produced the 
French rescript and a French war? The American war! 
What was it that produced the Spanish manifesto and 
Spanish war? The American war! What was it that 
armed forty-two thousand men in Ireland with the argu- 
ments carried on the points of forty thousand bayonets? 
The American war! For what are we about to incur an 
additional debt of twelve or fourteen millions? This 
accursed, cruel, diabolical American war!" 

At a later period, when the French Revolution was con- 
vulsing the world, and the Americans were solicited by the 
Revolutionists to espouse their cause, Mr. Fox, in high eulo- 
gistic terms, spoke of the foreign policy of Washington, 
who was then President of the United States: 

" How infinitely superior," said he, " must appear the 
spirit and principles of General Washington, in his late 
address to Congress, compared with the policy of modern 
European courts! Illustrious man! — deriving honor less 
from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity 
of his mind! Grateful to France for the assistance 
received from her, in that great contest which secured the 
independence of America, he yet did not choose to give 
up the system of neutrality in her favor. Having once 
laid down the line of conduct most proper to be pursued, 
not all the insults and provocations of the French minis- 
ter, Genet, could at all put him out of his way, or bend 



190 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

him from his purpose. It must, indeed, create astonish- 
ment, that, placed in circumstances so critical and filling 
a station so conspicuous, the character of Washington 
should never once have been called in question; — that he 
should, in no one instance, have been accused either of 
improper insolence, or of mean submission, in his transac- 
tions with foreign Nations. It has been reserved for him 
to run the race of glory without experiencing the smallest 
interruption to the brilliancy of his career. The breath 
of censure has not dared to impeach the purity of his 
conduct, nor the eye of envy to raise its maglignant glance 
to the elevation of his virtues. Such has been the trans- 
cendant merit and the unparalleled fate of this illustrious 
man! 

" How did he act when insulted by Genet? Did he con- 
sider it as necessary to avenge himself for the misconduct 
or madness of an individual, by involving a whole con- 
tinent in the horrors of war? No; he contented himself 
with procuring satisfaction for the insult, by causing 
Genet to be recalled; and thus, at once, consulted his own 
dignity and the interests of his country. Happy Ameri- 
cans! while the whirlwind flies over one quarter of the 
globe, and spreads everywhere desolation, you remain 
protected from its baneful effects by your own virtues, 
and the wisdom of your Government. Separated from 
Europe by an immense ocean, you feel not the effect of 
those prejudices and passions which convert the boasted 
seats of civilization into scenes of horror and bloodshed. 
You profit by the folly and madness of the contending 
Nations, and afford, in your more congenial clime, an asy- 
lum to those blessings and virtues which they wantonly 
contemn or wickedly exclude from their bosom! Culti- 
vating the arts of peace under the influence of freedom, 
you advance, by rapid strides, to opulence and distinction; 
and if, by any accident, you should be compelled to take 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 191 

part in the present unhappy contest, — if you should find 
it necessary to avenge insult, or repel injury, — the world 
will bear witness to the equity of your sentiments, and the 
moderation of your views; and the success of your arms 
will, no doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your 
cause!" 

We have already remarked that the political principles 
of Mr. Fox underwent a thorough change — that he im- 
bibed the genuine spirit of liberty; hence, he became one 
of the most popular statesmen that ever lived. His great 
object was, as he expressively asserted, " to widen the 
basis of freedom — to infuse and circulate the spirit of 
liberty." This w r as the pure, inexhaustible fountain at 
which he deeply drank, and from which his political prin- 
ciples ever afterwards emanated. " As an orator, espe- 
cially," to use the language of an eminent critic, " he 
drew from this source the most inspiring strains of his 
eloquence. No English speaker, not even Lord Chatham 
himself, dwelt so often on this theme; no one had his 
generous sensibilities more completely roused; no one felt 
more strongly the need of a growing infusion of this spirit 
into the English government, as the great means of its 
strength and renovation." 

It is to those free principles which actuated the mind 
of Fox that we are indebted for one of the finest strokes 
of his genius — that admirable passage in his great speech 
on Parliamentary Reform, delivered in 1797, in which he 
speaks of the vigor of democratic governments; — of the 
energy imparted to the Republics of Antiquity by the glo- 
rious Spirit of Liberty: 

" When w T e turn to the ancient democracies of Greece, 
when we see them in all the splendor of arts and of arms, 
when we see to what an elevation they carried the powers 
of man, it can not be denied that, however, vicious on 
the score of ingratitude or injustice, they were, at least, 



192 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the pregnant source of national strength, and that in 
particular they brought forth this strength in a peculiar 
manner in the moment of difficulty and distress. When 
we look at the democracies of the ancient world, we are 
compelled to acknowledge their oppression of their de- 
pendencies, their horrible acts of injustice and of ingrati- 
tude to their own citizens; but they compel us also to 
admiration by their vigor, their constancy, their spirit, 
and their exertions in every great emergency in which 
they were called upon to act. We are compelled to own 
that this gives a power of which no other form of govern- 
ment is capable. Why? Because it incorporates every 
man with the state, because it arouses every thing that 
belongs to the soul as well as to the body of man; because 
it makes every individual feel that he is fighting for him- 
self, and not for another; that it is his own cause, his own 
safety, his own concern, his own dignity on the face of 
the earth, and his own interest on that identical soil which 
he has to maintain; and accordingly we find that whatever 
may be objected to them on account of the turbulency of 
the passions which they engendered, their short duration, 
and their disgusting vices, they have exacted from the 
common suffrage of mankind the palm of strength and 
vigor. Who that reads the Persian war — what boy, 
whose heart is warmed by the grand, sublime actions which 
the democratic spirit produced, does not find in this princi- 
ple the key to all the wonders which were achieved at 
Thermopylae and elsewhere, and of which the recent and 
marvelous acts of the French people are pregnant exam- 
ples? He sees that the principle of liberty only could 
create the sublime and irresistible emotion; and it is in 
vain to deny, from the striking illustration that our own 
times have given, that the principle is eternal, and that 
it belongs to the heart of man." 

In another passage of uncommon beauty, showing that 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 193 

Liberty is strength, lie sets forth the same principle in the 
strongest light — in the boldest terms. Speaking on the 
State of Ireland, in 1797, he says :— " Liberty is order. 
Liberty is strength. Look round the world, and admire, 
as you must, the instructive spectacle. You will see that 
liberty not only is power and order, but that it is power 
and order predominant and invincible, — that it derides 
all other sources of strength. And shall the preposterous 
imagination be fostered, that men bred in liberty — the 
first of human kind who asserted the glorious distinction 
of forming for themselves their social compact — can be 
condemned to silence upon their rights? Is it to be con- 
ceived that men, who have enjoyed, for such a length of 
days, the light and happiness of freedom, can be restrained, 
and shut up again in the gloom of ignorance and degra- 
dation? As well, Sir, might you try, by a miserable dam, 
to shut up the flowing of a rapid river ! The rolling and 
impetuous tide would burst through every impediment 
that man might throw in its way; and the only conse- 
quence of the impotent attempt would be, that, having 
collected new force by its temporary suspension, enforcing 
itself through new channels, it would spread devastation 
and ruin on every side. The progress of liberty is like the 
progress of the stream. Kept within its bounds, it is sure 
to fertilize the country through which it runs; but no 
power can arrest it in its passage; and short-sighted, as 
well as wicked, must be the heart of the projector that 
would strive to divert its course." 

At the end of Lord North's administration, Mr. Fox 
was the acknowledged leader of the Whig party in the 
House. The most brilliant period in his public life was 
during the American war, towards the end of the North 
administration, when liberty, the noblest of political 
themes, offered a wide field for a display of the highest 
25 



1 I ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

powers of oratory. This period was also, as has been 
remarked, the glory of Mr. Burke's career. 

The eloquent voices of Fox and Burke were then united 
in one glorious cause — the upholding of that sacred 
fabric of liberty which had been reared by a little band 
of freemen, on American soil. 

On the downfall of Lord North's administration, Mr 
Fox was in the zenith of his fame. He had risen, as Mr. 
Burke says, by slow degrees to be the most brilliant and 
accomplished debater the world ever saw 

When Lord Rockingham succeeded Lord North as Prime 
Minister, in 1782, Mr. Fox was appointed Secretary of 
State. At the end of thirteen weeks the Rockingham 
ministry was terminated by the death of his Lordship, 
when, Lord Shelburne succeeding, and bringing in Wil- 
liam Pitt as Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Fox, who 
considered himself ill-treated, instantly resigned. From 
this time, Fox and Pitt, who had formerly been of one 
mind on the great questions of the American war and 
parliamentary reform became antagonists through life, 
in the greatest intellectual combat the world had wit- 
nessed since the day when Demosthenes and iEschines 
contested for the palm of eloquence. Each displayed 
such astonishing powers of oratory that it is difficult to 
settle the question of their comparative greatness. 

The Shelburne administration lasted scarcely eight 
months. It w T as overthrown by the famous coalition be- 
tween Mr. Fox and Lord North. 

The great measure of the Coalition ministry was the 
celebrated East India Bill of Mr. Fox, providing for the 
removal of abuses in the government of that country. 
Mr. Pitt who now led the Opposition, attacked this Bill 
with consummate eloquence and ability. But in defend- 
ing i f Fox and Burke shook the walls of the Senate 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 195 

House with the loftiest declamation. At the end of a 
long and vehement debate, in which Powis, Dundas and 
Pitt took strong ground against the bill, Mr. Fox rose to 
speak, after two o'clock in the morning, December 1, 1783, 
and commanded the attention of the House for nearly 
three hours, pouring forth his feelings in one impetuous 
torrent of fervid eloquence. This splendid speech of Fox 
on his East India Bill was one of his greatest efforts. As 
a specimen of " bold, indignant retort upon his antagonists, 
it has a high order of merit." In his preliminary remarks 
on the connection of the Bill with the cause of liberty, he 
says with much beauty and force: " The honorable gen- 
tleman " (Mr. Powis) " charges me with abandoning that 
cause, which, he says in terms of flattery, I had once so 
successfully asserted. I tell him.m reply, that if he were 
to search the history of my life, he would find that the 
period of it in which I struggled most for the real, sub- 
stantial cause of liberty is this very moment that I am 
addressing /ou. Freedom, according to my conception of 
it, consists in the safe and sacred possession of a man's 
property, governed by laws defined and certain; with 
many personal privileges, natural, civil, and religious, 
which he can not surrender without ruin to himself, and 
of which to be deprived by any other power is despotism. 
This bill, instead of subverting, is destined to stabilitate 
these principles; instead of narrowing the basis of free- 
dom, it tends to enlarge it; instead of suppressing, its 
object is to infuse and circulate the spirit of liberty. 

" What is the most odious species of tyranny? Precisely 
that which this bill is meant to annihilate. That a hand- 
ful of men, free themselves, should exercise the most base 
and abominable despotism over millions of their fellow- 
creatures; that innocence should be the victim of oppres- 
sion; that industry should toil for rapine; that the harm- 
less laborer should sweat, not for his own benefit, but for 



196 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the luxury and rapacity of tyrannic depredation; in a 
word, that thirty millions of men, gifted by Providence 
with the ordinary endowments of humanity, should groan 
under a system of despotism, unmatched in all the histo- 
ries of the world?* What is the end of all government? 
Certainly the happiness of the governed. Others may hold 
different opinions; but this is mine, and I proclaim it. 
What, then, are we to think of a government, whose good 
fortune is supposed to spring from the calamities of its 
subjects, whose aggrandizement grows out of the miseries 
of mankind? This is the kind of government exercised 
under the East India Company upon the natives of Hin- 
dostan; and the subversion of that infamous government 
is the main object of the bill in question." 

He concluded his speech in the boldest language: "I 
shall now, sir, conclude my speech with a few words upon 
the opinion of the right honorable gentleman [Mr. Pitt]. 
He says { he will stake his character upon the danger of 
this bill.' I meet him in his own phrase, and oppose him, 
character to character. I risk my all upon the excellence 
of this bill. I risk upon it whatever is most dear to me, 
whatever m^n most value, the character of integrity, of 
talents, of honor, of present reputation and future fame. 
These, and whatever else is precious to me, I stake upon 
the constitutional safety, the enlarged policy, the equity, 
and the wisdom of this measure; and have no fear in 
saying (whatever may be the fate of its authors) that this 
bill will produce to this country every blessing of com- 
merce and revenue ; and that by extending a generous and 
humane government over those millions whom the inscru- 

* We have here one of Mr. Fox's peculiarities, on which much of his force 
depends, viz., terse and rapid enumeration — the crowding of many particulars 
into one striking mass of thought. His enumerations, however, are not made, 
like those of most men, for rhetorical effect; they are condensed arguments, as 
will be seen by analyzing this passage. — Goodricti. 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 197 

table destinations of Providence have placed under us in 
the remotest regions of the earth, it will consecrate the 
name of England among the noblest of nations." 

The Bill finally passed the Commons by a vote of 217 to 
103, but when it reached the House of Lords it was de- 
feated by the inlluence of the King. On the 18th of De- 
cember, 1783, the Coalition ministry was dismissed, and 
the celebrated William Pitt came in as Prime Minister at 
the age of twenty -four. 

In vain did Mr. Fox exert his powerful eloquence to 
overthrow his illustrious rival. Mr. Pitt held the office 
of Prime Minister between sixteen and seventeen years. 
During this long period the great statesmen were opposed 
to each other on the most important questions that came 
up for discussion.* Their clashing eloquence (to borrow 
a beautiful figure from Ossian, when describing the hostile 
approach of two heroes) may be compared to the rapid 
course of two deep streams, pouring towards each other 
from high rocks, and meeting, mixing, and roaring on the 
plain. For more than twenty years this oratorical warfare 
was continued with unabated ardor. 

In 1786, Mr. Fox w T as appointed one of the managers 
of the impeachment against Warren Hastings. In sustain- 

* During a season of Mr. Fox's unpopularity in 1784, when the elections 
went against his friends, — when more than a hundred and sixty lost their seats 
in Parliament — the following is an account of the violent contest in West- 
minster: "In Westminster, which Mr. Fox and Sir Cecil Wray had repre- 
sented in the preceding Parliament, the struggle was the most violent ever 
known — Wray in opposition to his old associate. At the end of eleven days, 
Mr. Fox was in a minority of three hundred and eighteen, and his defeat 
seemed inevitable, when relief came from a quarter never before heard of in a 
political canvass. Georgianna, Duchess of Devonshire, a woman of extra- 
ordinary beauty and the highest mental accomplishments, took the field in his 
behalf. She literally became the canvasser of Mr. Fox. She went from 
house to house soliciting votes; she sent her private carriage to bring mechan- 
ics and others of the lowest class to the polls; she appeared at the hustings 



198 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ing the charge which was assigned him — that, relating to 
the oppressive treatment of Cheyte Sing, Rajah of Be- 
nares — he displayed such singular eloquence that it 
awakened universal admiration of his extraordinary 
powers as a parliamentary orator. 

In espousing the cause of the French Revolution, Mr. 
Fox lost the friendship of Mr. Burke. The painful rela- 
tion of their separation is given in the sketch of that 
statesman. 

Mr. Pitt had now gained such an ascendency in the 
House, that Mr. Fox, having no motive or desire to con- 
tinue his attendance in Parliament, withdrew from the 
arena of debate, for nearly five years, and devoted himself 
to literary pursuits in retirement. Here he pursued the 
study of the classics with renewed ardor. It was at this 
time that he corresponded with Gilbert Wakefield on 
Greek criticism, and also commenced his work on the 
English Revolution of 1688. This period has been truly 
called the golden season of his life. 

In a few years Mr. Fox was again brought into collision 
with Mr. Pitt in one of the fiercest intellectual conflicts on 
record. When Bonaparte became first Consul of France 
in 1799, he immediately made overtures of peace to the 

herself in company with Mr. Fox; and on one occasion, when a young 
butcher turned the laugh upon her by offering his vote for a kiss, in the enthu- 
siasm of the moment she took him at his word, and paid him on the spot ! 
With such an ally, Mr. Fox's fortunes soon began to mend, and at the termi- 
nation of forty days, when the polls were closed, he had a majority over Sir 
Cecil Wray of two hundred and thirty-five votes. This triumph was cele- 
brated by a splendid procession of Mr. Fox's friends, most of them bearing 
fox tails, which gave rise to one of Mr. Pitt's best sarcasms. Some one having 
expressed his wonder how the people could procure such an immense number 
of foxes' tails ; ' That is by no means surprising,' said Pitt ; ' this has been a 
good sporting year, and more foxes have been destroyed than in any fo/mer 
season. I think, upon an average, there has at least one Fox been run down in 
every borough of the kingdom!' " 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 199 

King of England. These proposals were insultingly re- 
jected by Mr. Pitt. A motion was made by Mr. Dundas, 
approving the course taken by the Ministry. Mr. Fox, 
who was strongly opposed to the prosecution of the war, 
determined, if possible, to defeat this motion by a power- 
ful effort of eloquence. On the 3d of February, 1800, the 
subject came before the House. After Whitbread, Can- 
ning, and ErsMne had expressed their sentiments, Mr. 
Pitt rose and delivered the most elaborate oration he ever 
pronounced in Parliament. After speaking nearly five 
hours he concluded at four o'clock in the morning, when 
Mr. Fox, " who was always most powerful in reply, instantly 
rose and answered him in a speech of nearly the same 
length, meeting him on all the main topics, with a force of 
argument, a dexterity in wresting Mr. Pitt's weapons out of 
his hands and turning them against himself, a keenness of 
retort, a graphic power of description, and an impetuous 
flow of eloquence, to which we find no parallel in any of 
his published speeches." This was, perhaps, the sublimest 
oratorical contest ever witnessed in the House of Com- 
mons. Not since the trial of Warren Hastings had such 
lofty declamation been displayed; " and never were these 
two great orators brought into more direct competition, or 
the distintive features of their eloquence exhibited in finer 
contrast." 

The great speech of Mr. Fox on the Rejection of Bona- 
parte's overtures for peace, is the ablest of his senatorial 
orations; — it was so considered by most who heard it. 
The peroration, which we quote, contains the most elo 
quent passage he ever produced. It is a bold strain of 
mingled argument, irony, and invective: 

" Where then, sir," exclaimed Mr. Fox, " is this war, 
which on every side is pregnant with such horrors, to be 
carried? Where is it to stop? Not till we establish the 
house of Bourbon! And this you cherish the hope of 



200 ORATORS AND STATESMEN". 

doing, because you have had a successful campaign. 
Why, sir, before this you have had a successful cam- 
paign. The situation of the allies, with all they have 
gained, is surely not to be compared now to what it was 
when you had taken Valenciennes, Quesnoy, Conde, &c, 
which induced some gentlemen in this House to prepare 
themselves for a march to Paris. With all that you have 
gained, you surely will not say that the prospect is brighter 
now than it was then. What have you gained but the 
recovery of a part of what you before lost? One cam- 
paign is successful to you; another to them; and in this 
way, animated by the vindictive passions of revenge, ha- 
tred, and rancor, which are infinitely more flagitious, even, 
than those of ambition and the thirst of power, you may 
go on forever; as, with such black incentives, I see no end 
to human misery. 

" And all this without an intelligible motive. All this 
because you may gain a better peace a year or two hence! 
So that we are called upon to go on merely as a specula- 
tion. We must keep Bonaparte for some time longer at 
war, as a state of probation. Gracious God, sir! is war a 
state of probation? Is peace a rash system? Is it danger- 
ous for nations to live in amity with each other? Are 
your vigilance, your policy, your common powers of ob- 
servation, to b3 extinguished by putting an end to the 
horrors of war? Can not this state of probation be as 
well undergone without adding to the catalogue of human 
sufferings? ' But we must pause!' What! must the bowels 
of Great Britain be torn out — her best blood be spilled — 
her treasure wasted — that you may make an experiment? 
Put yourselves, oh! that you would put yourselves in the 
field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of horrors 
that you excite! In former wars a man might, at least, 
have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance in 
his mind the impressions which a scene of carnage and of 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 201 

death must inflict. If a man had been present at the 
battle of Blenheim^ for instance, and had inquired the 
motive of the battle, there was not a soldier engaged who 
could not have satisfied his curiosity, and even, perhaps, 
allayed his feelings. They were fighting, they knew, to 
repress the uncontrolled ambition of the Grand Monarch. 
But if a man were present now at a field of slaughter, and 
were to inquire for what they were fighting — ' Fighting!' 
would be the answer; ' they are not fighting; they are 
pausing!' ' Why is that man expiring? Why is that 
other writhing with agony? What means this implacable 
fury?' The answer must be, 'You are quite wrong, sir, 
you deceive yourself — they are not fighting — do not 
disturb them — they are merely pausing! This man is 
not expiring with agony — that man is not dead — he is 
only pausing! Lord help you, sir! they are not angry 
with one another; they have now no cause to quarrel; 
but their country thinks that there should be a pause. 
All that you see, sir, is nothing like fighting — there is no 
harm, nor cruelty, nor bloodshed in it whatever: it is 
nothing more than a political pause! It is merely to try an 
experiment — to see whether Bonaparte will not behave 
himself better than heretofore; and in the mean time we 
have agreed to a pause, in pure friendship!' And is this 
the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the advocates 
of order? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize 
the world — to destroy order — to trample on religion — 
to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of noble 
sentiment, but the affections of social nature; and in the 
prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devasta- 
tion all around you." 

On the peace of Amiens in 1802, Mr. Fox visited Paris, 
where he was treated with the greatest respect by Bona- 
parte. 

An anecdote is related by M. Thiers, that, when Fox 
26 



202 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

was in Paris during the cessation of hostilities, as he was 
one day passing in company with the First Consul and his 
suite along an apartment of the Louvre, in which there 
was a terrestial globe of extraordinary size and exactness, 
one of the followers of Bonaparte turned the globe round, 
and sarcastically remarked that England filled but a small 
space in the world. " Yes," replied Fox indignantly, 
" that island of the Englishmen is a small one. There 
they are born, and in that island their wish is to die." 
" But," added he, advancing to the globe and stretching 
his arms round the two oceans and the two Indias, " but 
while the Englishmen live, they fill the whole world, and 
clasp it in the circle of their power." 

On the death of Mr. Pitt in January, 1806, Mr. Fox 
became Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, but did not 
long survive his great antagonist. On the 13th of Septem- 
ber of the same year, Charles James Fox breathed his last, 
in the fifty-eighth year of his age. On the 10th of 
October, he was borne to his final resting-place in West- 
minster Abbey, amidst the highest honors of the nation. 
His grave is directly adjoining Lord Chatham's, and 
within a few feet of the grave of his illustrious rival, 
William Pitt. 

" The mighty chiefs sleep side by side, 
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 
'Twill trickle on his rival's bier ; 
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound, 
And Fox's shall the notes rebound. 
The solemn echo seems to cry — 
' Here let their discord with them o.ie.' 
Speak not for those a separate doom, 
Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb. 
But search the land of living men, 
Where wilt thou find their like again?" 

Mr. Wilberforce, alluding to Fox on his death-bed, thus 
writes in his diary, June 27th, 1806 : — " Poor fellow, how 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 203 

melancholy Ms case ! he has not one religious friend, or 
one who knows any thing about it. How wonderful God's 
providences ! How poor a master the world ! He no sooner 
grasps his long-sought object than it shows itself a bubble, 
and he is forced to give it up;" and after his death he 
adds: — "So poor Fox is gone at last. I am more affected 
by it than I thought I should be. How speedily has he 
followed his great rival!" Mr. Pitt had breathed his last 
only a few months before. 

Here we see the end of sublunary greatness. The grave 
is the home of the hero, the statesman, and the orator, 
as well as the poor, despised, and illiterate of earth. 
" This " in the expiring words of John Quincy Adams, 
* This is the end of earth" 

What a solemn lesson is here taught politicians and 
statesmen. Let a voice from the graves of Pitt and Fox 
remind them of their mortality, and amid the ardor of 
political contests proclaim aloud in their ears, in the im- 
pressive language of Burke — "fVhat shadows we are, and 
what shadows we pursue." Political elevation, oratorical 
glory and professional fame grow dim and perish forever 
in that " inevitable hour " when the immortal spirit takes 
its flight from the shores of time to the realms of eternity. 
And how short is the pathway from the cradle to the man- 
sions of the dead! Though we may have a tongue that 
speaks with the eloquence of a Fox or a Pitt — though 
we may soar aloft to the proudest summit of human 
power and eminence — though we may tread the path of 
glory on the field of battle; and like an Alexander or a 
Caesar, ride triumphantly over the fragments of broken 
thrones, and amid the universal crash of empires, yet the 
closing scene will soon arrive, when the feeble tenement 
of clay shall moulder, leaving its only e itaph upon the 
crumbling marble. 



204 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 

And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave, 
Await, alike, th' inevitable hour-, — 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

Much has been said and written on the character of Mr. 
Fox as an orator. That he holds the first rank among 
modern parliamentary speakers is conceded by all — that 
in some respects, he approached nearer than any other 
man, the style and manner of Demosthenes is allowed by 
some. 

It is not, however, in the published speeches of Mr. 
Fox that we find full evidences of those high oratorical 
powers which he is said to have possessed. It is to the 
living speaker in the strength and glory of his days, that 
we must turn, if we would behold the proudest triumphs 
of his vehement eloquence. We must contemplate him in 
the British Senate, standing in the proud consciousness of 
his own intellectual strength and superiority, like De- 
mosthenes, Chatham, or Mirabeau, pouring out with impas- 
sioned feeling, that eloquence which shook the strong- 
holds of oppression to their center. 

The leading characteristics of Mr. Fox's oratory were 
vehemence and simplicity. In these respects he closely 
resembled Demosthenes, whose manner was so vehement 
and whose style was so simple. 

When Mr. Fox became deeply engaged in his subject, 
his sentences were delivered with an earnestness, a pathos, 
an impetuosity, a sweetness and power of tone that thrilled 
and subdued every heart. When his sensibility was com- 
pletely roused, and his passions kindled into an inex- 
tinguishable flame, impetuous torrents of eloquence burst 
from his lips, bearing down all opposition. The deep and 
rapid stream of his oratory, may be compared to a " free 
and abounding^ river, sweeping in beauty through the open 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 205 

champaign, gathering volume and strength from tributary 
streams, glancing through green meadows and dark wood- 
lands, rushing through forests and mountains, and finally 
plunging, with resistless force and majesty, into the open 
sea!" His feelings were always poured out with all the 
simplicity of a child. 

" I have seen his countenance," said Mr. Goodwin, 
"lighten up with more than mortal ardor and goodness; I 
have been present when his voice was suffocated with 
tears." In all this, his powerful understanding went out 
the whole length of his emotions, so that there was nothing 
strained or unnatural in his most vehement bursts of pas- 
sion. " His feeling," says Coleridge, " was all intellect, 
and his intellect was all feeling." " Never," adds Professor 
Goodrich, " was there a finer summing up; it shows us at 
a glance the whole secret of his power. To this he added 
the most perfect sincerity and artlessness of manner. His 
very faults conspired to heighten the conviction of his 
honesty. His broken sentences, the choking of his voice, 
his ungainly gestures, his sudden starts of passion, the 
absolute scream with which he delivered his vehement 
passages, all showed him to be deeply moved and in ear- 
nest, so that it may be doubted whether a more perfect 
delivery would not have weakened the impression he 
made." 

Vehemence and simplicity are the two most prominent 
traits in the character of all truly great orators. Sim- 
plicity in writing,* and vehemence in delivery are the first 
of oratorical excellencies. Let it then be the constant 
aim of the young orator, who is aspiring to eminence in 
the art, to write with simplicity and to speak with vehe- 

* " Beautiful and thrilling speeches may fall and perish at once; while the 
simple majesty of thought, expressed in the simplest language, — such as the 
imperishable monuments of Demosthenes, — will live as long as time shall 
live."— Jno. Todd. 



206 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

mence. It was this that armed the oratory of Fox with such 
astonishing power, and sent it to the heart with such over- 
whelming energy. His mind was on fire with his subject, 
and by the irresistible charms and force of true eloquence, 
he enchanted his hearers, and transferred those radiant, 
burning thoughts which were kindled in his own bosom 
to their captivated minds. 

The nature of such eloquence can not be properly 
appreciated or described except by those who have been 
swayed by its power; hence, as Lord Brougham well ob- 
serves, the eloquence of Mr. Fox was such, that to compre- 
hend it, you must have heard the orator himself. 

" When he got fairly into his subject, was heartily 
warmed with it, he poured forth words and periods of fire 
that smote you, and deprived you of all power to reflect 
and rescue yourself, while he went on to seize the facul- 
ties of the listener, and carry them captive along with him 
withersoever he might please to rush." 

" To speak of him justly as an orator," says Sir James 
Mackintosh, " would require a long essay. Every where 
natural, he carried into public something of that simple 
and negligent exterior which belonged to him in private. 
When he began to speak, a common observer might have 
thought him awkward; and even a consummate judge 
could only have been struck with the exquisite justness 
of his ideas, and the transparent simplicity of his man- 
ners. But no sooner had he spoken for some time, than 
he was changed into another being. He forgot himself 
and every thing around him. He thought only of his 
subject. His genius warmed, and kindled as he went on. 
He darted fire into his audience. Torrents of impetuous 
and irresistible eloquence swept along their feelings and 
conviction. He certainly possessed above all moderns 
that union of reason, simplicity and vehemence which 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 207 

formed the prince of orators. He was the most Demos- 
thenean speaker since Demosthenes." 

In contradiction to this last sentence, Lord Brougham 
remarks: " There never was a greater mistake, than the 
fancying a close resemblance between his eloquence and 
that of Demosthenes; although an excellent judge (Sir 
James Mackintosh) fell into it when he pronounced him 
1 the most Demosthenean speaker since Demosthenes.' 
That he resembled his immortal predecessor in despising 
all useless ornament, and all declamation for declamation's 
sake, is true enough; but it applies to every good speaker 
as well as to those two signal ornaments of ancient and 
modern rhetoric. That he resembled him in keeping more 
close to the subject in hand, than many good and even 
great speakers have often done, may also be affirmed ; yet 
this is far too vague and remote a likeness to justify the 
proposition in question; and it is only a difference in 
degree, and not a specific distinction between him and 
others. That his eloquence was fervid, rapid, copious, 
carrying along with it the minds of the audience, not 
suffering them to dwell upon the speaker or the speech, 
but engrossing their whole attention, and keeping it fixed 
on the question, is equally certain, and is the only real 
resemblance which the comparison affords. But then the 
points of difference are as numerous as they are import- 
ant, and they strike indeed upon the most cursoiy glance. 
The one was full of repetitions, recurring again and again 
to the same topic, nay to the same view of it, till he had 
made his impression complete; the other never came back 
upon a ground which he had utterly wasted and withered 
up by the tide of fire he had rolled over it. The one 
dwelt at length, and with many words on his topics; the 
other performed the whole at a blow, sometimes with a 
word, always with the smallest number of words possible. 
The one frequently was digressive, even narrative and 



208 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

copious in illustration; in the other no deviation from 
his course was ever to be perceived; no disporting on the 
borders of his way, more than any lingering upon it; but 
carried rapidly forward, and without swerving to the right 
or to the left, like the engines flying along a railway, and 
like them driving every thing out of sight that obstructed 
his resistless course." 

Professor Goodrich, in his work on British Eloquence, 
gives a most admirable summary of the oratorical char- 
acter of Fox. After quoting the conflicting remarks of 
Mackintosh and Brougham, he adds: 

" When two such men differ on a point like this, we may 
safely say that both are in the right and in the wrong. As 
to certain qualities, Fox was the very reverse of the great 
Athenian ; as to others, they had much in common. In 
whatever relates to the forms of oratory — symmetry, 
dignity, grace, the working up of thought and language to 
their most perfect expression — Mr. Fox was not only 
inferior to Demosthenes, but wholly unlike him, having no 
rhetoric and no ideality; while, at the same time, in the 
structure of his understanding, the modes of its opera- 
tion, the soul and spirit which breathes throughout his 
eloquence, there was a striking resemblance. This will 
appear as we dwell for a moment on his leading pecu- 
liarities. 

(1.) He had a luminous simplicity, which gave his 
speeches the most absolute unity of impression, however 
irregular might be their arrangement. No man ever kept 
the great points of his case more steadily and vividly be- 
fore the minds of his audience. 

(2.) He took every thing in the concrete. If he discussed 
principles, it was always in direct connection with the 
subject before him. Usually, however, he did not even 
discuss a subject — he grappled with an antagonist. Noth- 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 209 

ing gives such life and interest to a speech, or so delights 
an audience, as a direct contest of man with man. 

(3.) He struck instantly at the heart of his subject. He 
was eager to meet his opponent at once on the real points 
at issue; and the moment of his greatest power was when 
he stated the argument against himself, with more force 
than his adversary or any other man could give it, and 
then seized it with the hand of a giant, tore it in pieces, 
and trampled it under foot. 

(4.) His mode of enforcing a subject on the minds of 
his audience was to come back again and again to the 
strong points of his case. Mr. Pitt amplijied when he 
wished to impress; Mr Fox repeated. Demosthenes also 
repeated, but he had more adroitness in varying the mode 
of doing it. ' Idem haud iisdem verbis.' 

(5.) He had rarely any preconceived method or arrange- 
ment of his thoughts. This was one of his greatest faults, 
in which he differed most from the Athenian artist. If it 
had not been for the unity of impression and feeling men- 
tioned above, his strength would have been wasted in dis- 
connected efforts. 

(6.) Reasoning was his forte and his passion. But he 
was not a regular reasoner. In his eagerness to press for- 
ward, he threw away every thing he could part with, and 
compacted the rest into a single mass. Facts, princi- 
ples, analogies, were all wrought together like the strands 
of a cable, and intermingled with wit, ridicule, or impas- 
sioned feeling. His arguments were usually personal in 
their nature, ad hominem, &c, and were brought home to 
his antagonist with stinging severity and force. 

(7.) He abounded in hits — those abrupt and startling 
turns of thought which rouse an audience, and give them 
more delight than the loftiest strains of eloquence. 

(8.) He was equally distinguished for his side blows, for 
27 



210 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

keen and pungent remarks flashed out upon his antagonist 
in passing, as he pressed on with his argument. 

(9.) He was often dramatic, personating the character of 
his opponents or others, and carrying on a dialogue be- 
tween them, which added greatly to the liveliness and force 
of his oratory. 

( 10. ) He had astonishing dexterity in evading difficulties, 
and turning to his own advantage every thing that occured 
in debate. 

In nearly all these qualities he had a close resemblance 
to Demosthenes. 

In his language, Mr. Fox studied simplicity, strength and 
boldness. ' Give me an elegant Latin and a homely Saxon 
word,' said he, *' and I will always choose the latter.' 
Another of his sayings was this: ' Did the speech read well 
when reported? If so, it w r as a bad one.' These two 
remarks give us the secret of his style as an orator. 

The life of Mr. Fox has this lesson for young men, that 
early habits of recklessness and vice can hardly fail to 
destroy the influence of the most splendid abilities, and the 
most humane and generous dispositions. Though thirty- 
eight years in public life, he was in office only eighteen 
months '' 



CHAPTER VII 



LOKD ERSKINE. 

Thomas Erskine was born at Edinburgh on the 10th day 
of January, 1750. He received the rudiments of his educa- 
tion at the High School of Edinburgh, and the University 
of St. Andrew's. On account of the poverty of his father, 
he did not enjoy the advantages of an early classical 
education. Of Latin he knew but little, and of Greek 
his knowledge did not extend far beyond the alphabet. 
But in the literature of his native tongue he was well 
instructed. In his boyhood, Erskine had his aspirations 
after literary celebrity; even then he cultivated a taste 
for oratorical glory. His youthful dreams, however, were 
not soon accomplished In consequence of the slender 
patrimony of his father, young Erskine was compelled to 
seek his fortune in the wide world. At the age of four- 
teen, he embarked on the ocean as a midshipman in the 
navy. In this situation he spent four years, visiting 
among many other countries the West Indies and the coast 
of North America. It was during one of these voyages to 
America that he witnessed, as he stepped on shore, that 
meeting of an Indian Chief with the governor of a 
British colony, which he afterwards so graphically de- 
scribed in the finest of his speeches, " and made the start- 
ing-point of one of the noblest bursts of eloquence in our 
language." 

At the end of four years Mr. Erskine returned to Eng- 
land, and was married in 1770, at the age of twenty. He 



212 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

now pursued with the greatest ardor the study of English 
literature. In addition to an extensive course of prose 
reading, he devoted considerable time to the study of 
Milton and Shakspeare, a large portion of whose writ- 
ings he committed to memory. This may account for the 
grandeur of his style. " Here he acquired that fine choice 
of words, that rich and varied imagery, that sense of har- 
mony in the structure of his sentences, that boldness of 
thought and magnificence of expression, for which he was 
afterward so much distinguished. It may also be remarked, 
that there are passages in both these writers which are the 
exact counterpart of the finest eloquence of the ancients. 
The speeches, in the second book of the Paradise Lost, 
have all the condensed energy and burning force of 
expression which belong to the great Athenian orator. 
The speech of Brutus, in Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, has 
all the stern majesty of Roman eloquence. That of 
Anthony over the dead body of Caesar is a matchless 
exhibition of the art and dexterity of insinuation which 
characterized the genius of the Greeks. It is not in re- 
gard to poetry alone that we may say of these great 
masters, 

' Hither, as to a fountain, 
Other suns repair, and in their urns 
Draw golden light. 1 

" In respect to eloquence, also, to use the words of John- 
son, slightly varied, he who would excel in this noblest 
of arts must give his days and nights to the study of Mil- 
ton and Shakspeare." 

In 1775, Mr. Erskine entered on the study of law, and 
in three years after, was called to the bar. He soon 
acquired a splendid forensic reputation in defense of 
Captain Bailie, who, on his removal from the superintend- 
ence of Greenwich hospital by Lord Sandwich, had pub- 
lished an appeal to the public, charging several enormous 



LORD ERSKINE. 213 

abuses in the management of the institution on his Lord- 
ship, for which he was prosecuted on the charge of a libel 
by Sandwich. In the management of this case Mr. Erskine 
completely astonished the older members of the bar 
and the immense throng that filled Westminster Hall, by 
the brilliancy of his genius, the magnificence of his dic- 
tion, and the splendor of his eloquence. Lord Campbell 
pronounces this, " the most wonderful forensic effort which 
we have in our annals." Erskine gained the case, and by 
this single effort made his fortune. As he retired from the 
hall he received thirty retainers from attorneys who were 
present and witnessed his extraordinary efforts. His first 
forensic contests were crowned with as brilliant a victory 
as were those of Patrick Henry, when he was called to 
plead against the clergymen of Virginia, on the tobacco 
question. 

In 1783, Mr. Erskine took his seat in the House of 
Commons as member from Portsmouth. He was a zealous 
supporter of the Coalition ministry of Mr. Fox and Lord 
North. But it is not in the senate that we are to find the 
greatest display of Mr. Erskine's oratorical powers. In 
parliamentary debate he was not in his element, as he was 
when engaged in legal matters. His political information 
was not very extensive; his habits were not well suited to 
senatorial debate, and he was too easily embarrassed by 
the presence of sneering opponents. Mr. Pitt at once 
determined to oppose him with all the powers of his cut- 
ting sarcasm. An instance of this is given by Mr. Croly 
in his Life of George IV. He there states that when Mr. 
Erskine commenced his maiden speech, Mr. Pitt evidently 
intending to reply, sat with pen and paper in his hand, 
prepared to catch the arguments of his formidable adver- 
sary. He wrote a word or two. Erskine proceeded; but 
with every additional sentence, Pitt's attention to the 
paper relaxed, his look became more careless, and he obvi- 



214 ORATORS AXD STATESMEN. 

ously began to think the orator less and less worthy of his 
attention. At length, while every eye in the House was 
fixed upon him, with a contemptuous smile he dashed the 
pen through the paper, and flung them on the floor. Ers- 
kine never recovered from this expression of disdain; his 
voice faltered, he struggled through the remainder of his 
speech, and sank into his seat dispirited and shorn of his 
fame. Some time afterwards, Mr. Sheridan said to him: 
"I'll tell you how it happens, Erskine; you axe afraid of 
Pitt, and that is the flabby part of your character." 
During his senatorial career, however, Mr. Erskine deliv- 
ered several speeches which displayed singular eloquence. 
Indeed, it must be admitted as Lord Brougham well 
observes that, had he appeared in any other period than 
the age of the Foxes, the Pitts, and the Burkes, there is 
little chance that he would have been eclipsed as a parlia- 
mentary debater. 

It is to the forum that we must turn if we would see 
Mr. Erskine in his element — in his greatness, and in his 
glory. Here he stands on a proud eminence, towering in 
grandeur above all other advocates. " As an advocate in 
the forum," says Lord Campbell, " I hold him to be with- 
out an equal in ancient or modern times." 

In 1784 Mr. Erskine delivered a speech on the rights of 
juries in the case of the Dean of St. Asaph which won 
universal admiration. It showed " a depth of learning 
which would have done honor to Selden or Hale." This 
speech is peculiarly interesting to the lawyer for the extent 
and variety of legal knowledge which it displays; and to 
the general student in oratory its study will be highly con- 
ducive to mental discipline. " The young orator of any 
profession," says an eminent critic, " will find the study 
of it one of the best means of mental discipline, and will 
rise from the perusal of it with increased admiration of 
Lord Erskine as a logician and an orator." 



LORD ERSKINE. 2 1 5 

But the finest of his forensic speeches undoubtedly is 
that delivered in defense of Mr. Stockdale, a London book- 
seller, who was prosecuted by the House of Commons for 
publishing the Rev. Mr. Logan's pamphlet in vindication 
of Warren Hastings, reflecting severely on the House in 
their impeachment of the Governor-General of India, and 
charging them with having acted " from motives of per- 
sonal animosity — not from regard to public justice." 
This speech was delivered on the 9th of December, 17S9 
It is universally considered the finest specimen ofc 1 Lord 
Erskine's oratory, " whether we regard the wonderful skill 
with which the argument is conducted — the soundness 
of the principles laid down, and their happy application 
to the case — the exquisite fancy with which they are em- 
bellished and illustrated — or the powerful and touching 
language in which they are conveyed. It is justly regarded 
by all English lawyers as a consummate specimen of the 
art of addressing a jury — as a standard, a sort of prece- 
dent, for treating cases of libel; by keeping which in his 
eye a man may hope to succeed in special pleading his 
client's case within its principle, who is destitute of the 
talent required even to comprehend the other and higher 
merits of his original. By these merits it is recommended 
to lovers of pure diction — of copious and animated de- 
scription — of lively, picturesque, and fanciful illustra- 
tion — of all that constitutes, if we may so speak, the 
poetry of eloquence."* 

The celebrated description of an Indian Chief meet- 
ing with the governor of a British Colony — " a passage 
which verges more toward poetry than any thing in oui 
eloquence;" — and those famous sentences on the nature 
of the liberty of the press will be admired for their exqui- 
site beauty and graphic power as long as the English 

* Edinburgh Review, vol. xvi, p. 109. 



216 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

language is spoken in its purity, " There are," says Lord 
Brougham, " no finer things in modern, and few finer 
in ancient eloquence than the celebrated passage of the 
Indian Chief; nor has beautiful language ever been used 
with more curious felicity to raise a striking and an appro- 
priate image before the mind, than in the simile of the 
winds ' lashing before them the lazy elements, which with- 
out the tempest would stagnate into pestilence.' " With- 
out their insertion we can not pass over these beautiful 
passages. They should be committed to memory by every 
young orator, while the whole speech should receive the 
closest attention. 

" Gentlemen," exclaimed Mr. Erskine, when about to 
introduce the grand burst of eloquence on the Indian 
Chief, " Gentlemen, I think I can observe that you are 
touched with this way of considering the subject, and I 
can account for it. I have not been considering it through 
the cold medium of books, but have been speaking of 
man and his nature, and of human dominion, from what I 
have seen of them myself among reluctant nations sub- 
mitting to our authority. I know what they feel, and how 
such feelings can alone be repressed. I have heard them 
in my youth from a naked savage, in the indignant char- 
acter of a prince surrounded by his subjects, addressing 
the governor of a British colony, holding a bundle of 
sticks, as the notes of his unlettered eloquence. ' Who is 
it,' said the jealous ruler of the desert, encroached upon 
by the restless foot of English adventure — ' who is it 
that causes this river to rise in the high mountains, and 
to empty itself into the ocean? Who is it that causes to 
blow the loud winds of winter, and that calms them again 
in summer? Who is it that rears up the shade of those 
lofty forests, and blasts them with the quick lightning at 
his pleasure? The same Being who gave to you a country 
on the other side of the waters and gave ours to us 3 and 



LORD ERSKINE. 217 

by this title we will defend it,' said the warrior, throwing 
down his tomahawk upon the ground, and raising the w T ar- 
sound of his nation. These are the feelings of subjugated 
man all round the globe; and depend upon it, nothing but 
fear will control where it is vain to look for affection."* 

In speaking on the liberty of the press Mr. Erskine 
stated " with admirable precision and force, the great 
principle involved in the law of libel; namely, that every 
composition of this kind is to be taken as a whole, and not 
judged of by detached passages." He exposed the evils 
of too severe a restriction on the press in the following 
beautiful amplification. 

" If you are firmly persuaded of the singleness and purity 
of the author's intentions, you are not bound to subject 
him to infamy, because, in the zealous career of a just and 
animated composition, he happens to have tripped with 
his pen into an intemperate expression in one or two in- 
stances of a long work. If this severe duty were binding 
on your consciences, the liberty of the press would be an 
empty sound, and no man could venture to write on any 
subject, however pure his purpose, without an attorney at 
one elbow and a counsel at the other. 

" From minds thus subdued by the terrors of punish- 
ment, there could issue no works of genius to expand the 
empire of human reason, nor any masterly compositions, 
on the general nature of government, by the help of 
which the great commonwealths of mankind have founded 
their establishments; much less any of those useful appli- 
cations of them to critical conjunctures, by w T hich, from 
time to time, our own Constitution, by the exercise of 

* u The reader will be struck with the rapid flow of the rythmus in this 
speech of the Indian Chief, so admirably corresponding in its iambic structure 
with the character of the speaker. It should be read aloud in connection with 
a corresponding passage of Mr. Grattan, already remarked upon for its slow 
and majestic movement." — Goodrich. 

2S 



2 1 8 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

patriot citizens, has been brought back to its standard. 
Under such terrors, all the great lights of science and 
civilization must be extinguished; lor men can not com- 
municate their free thoughts to one another with a lash 
held over their heads. It is the nature of every thing 
that is great and useful, both in the animate and inanimate 
world, to be wild and irregular, — and we must be contented 
to take them with the alloys which belong to them, or live 
without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of criti- 
cism, but its wanderings are sanctioned by its majesty and 
wisdom when it advances in its path: subject it to the 
critic, and you tame it into dullness. Mighty rivers break 
down their banks in the winter, sweeping away to death 
the flocks which are fattened on the soil that they fertilize 
in the summer: the few may be saved by embankments 
from drowning, ' but the flock must perish for hunger. 
Tempests occasionally shake our dwellings and dissipate 
our commerce; but they scourge before them the lazy ele- 
ments, which without them would stagnate into pestilence.* 
In like manner, Liberty herself, the last and best gift of 
God to his creatures, must be taken just as she is: you 
might pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape 
her into a perfect model of severe, scrupulous law, but she 
would then be Liberty no longer; and you must be con- 
tent to die under the lash of this inexorable justice which 
you had exchanged for the banners of Freedom." 

By his powerful reasoning, touching language, and fer- 
vid eloquence, Mr. Erskine secured the acquittal of Stock- 
dale. The jury soon returned with a verdict of Not 
Guilty. 

In 1794, Mr. Erskine reached the summit of forensic 
and oratorical fame, when he came off so triumphantly in 

* " This is one of the finest amplifications in English oratory, beautiful in 
itself, justified by the importance of the subject which it enforces, and admira- 
bly suited to produce the designed impression." — Goodrich. 



LORD ERSKINE. 219 

his defense of Thomas Hardy, Rev. John Home Tooke, the 
celebrated philologist, and eleven others, who were fool- 
ishly indicted for high treason, by the English govern- 
ment. These persons were members of the London cor- 
responding society, the professed object of which was the 
promotion of parliamentary reform. Having excited the 
jealousy of the British government they were prosecuted 
and brought to trial, and Mr. Erskine was called upon to 
defend their cases — to save their lives. On the 1st of 
November, of the same year, he delivered in behalf of 
Hardy his celebrated speech " which will last forever." 
He spoke seven hours; but about ten minutes before he 
closed, his voice failed him, and he was so completely 
exhausted that he was compelled to lean on the table for 
support, and could only speak in a whisper. " The im- 
pression made upon his audience, as they hung with breath- 
less anxiety on his lips, while he stood before them in this 
exhausted state, is said to have been more thrilling and 
profound than at any period of his long professional 
career. 

The moment he ended, the hall was filled with acclama- 
tions, which were taken up and repeated by the vast mul- 
titudes that surrounded the building and blocked up the 
streets." When the case came to be decided, the jury 
were out but three hours, when they returned with a ver- 
dict of Not Guilty. The principles which Mr. Erskine 
laid down in defending Hardy decided the case of the 
others who were arraigned before the court. Home 
Tooke was acquitted, and the other prisoners discharged. 
Thus Mr. Erskine, by the power of his matchless elo- 
quence " resisted the combination of statesmen, and 
princes, and lawyers — the league of cruelty and craft 
formed to destroy our liberties — and triumphantly scat- 
tered to the winds the half-accomplished scheme of an 
unsparing proscription. Before such a precious service a* 



2 2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

this, well may the luster of statesmen and of orators grcif 
pale."* 

In 1797, Mr. Erskine showed himself a very able advo- 
cate of Christianity in his vindication of its sublime doc- 
trines, when they were assailed by the notorious Thomas 
Paine, who was then disseminating the poisonous seeds of 
infidelity in every grade of society. The circumstances 
under which Mr. Erskine came forward to defend the 
Christian religion against the abusive attacks of the Infi- 
del, were the following: Williams, a bookseller of infa- 
mous character in London, was prosecuted by the Society 
for the Suppression of Vice and Immorality, for publishing 
Paine's Age of Reason. As counsel for the prosecution, 
Mr. Erskine opened the case. The plea brought forward 
by the defendant was " that such an attack was no crime 
against the government." Mr. Erskine, by the most power 
ful arguments and persuasive eloquence endeavored to 
establish the great and fundamental principle, that " the 
Christian religion is the very foundation of the laws of 
the land." His speech on this occasion was delivered on 
the 24th of July, 1797, before Lord Kenyon and a special 
jury. It is one of the most beautiful and sublime pieces 
of eloquence that enriches the literature of our language. 
The subject was well suited to Mr. Erskine's taste, as he 
particularly delighted and excelled in lofty declamation, 
and serious forensic oratory. " Thi3 speech contains a 
fuller exhibition than any other, of Mr. Erskine's powers 
of declamation in the best sense of the term — of lofty and 
glowing amplification on subjects calculated to aw T aken 
sublime sentiments, and thus to enforce the argument out 
of which it springs." 

The most eloquent passage is that in which the orator 
compares Mr. Paine with the believers in Christianity, 

* Brougham's Statesmen of George III. 



LORD ERSKINE. 221 

with tliose distinguished luminaries, Newton, Boyie, Locke, 
Hale and Milton, — and exhibits the sincere belief of these 
great minds in the religion of the Savior. 

" In running the mind along the numerous list of sincere 
and devout Christians, I can not help lamenting that New- 
ton had not lived to this day, to have had his shallowness 
filled up with this new flood of light. But the subject is 
too awful for irony. I will speak plainly and directly. 
Newton was a Christian! Newton, whose mind burst forth 
from the fetters cast by nature upon our finite c onception; 
Newton, whose science was truth, and the foundation of 
whose knowledge of it was philosophy. Not those vision- 
ary and arrogant assumptions which too often usurp its 
name, but philosophy resting upon the basis of mathe- 
matics, w T hich, like figures, can not lie. Newton, who 
carried the line and rule to the utmost barriers of crea- 
tion, and explored the principles by which, no doubt, all 
created matter is held together and exists. But this extra- 
ordinary man, in the mighty reach of his mind, over- 
looked, perhaps, the errors which a minuter investigation 
of the created things on this earth might have taught him 
of the essence of his Creator. What shall then be said of 
the great Mr Boyle, who looked into the organic structure 
of all matter, even to the brute inanimate substances 
w T hich the foot treads on. Such a man may be supposed 
to have been equally qualified with Mr. Paine, to ' look 
through nature, up to nature's God.' Yet the result of all 
his contemplation was the most confirmed and devou 
belief in all which the other holds in contempt as despica 
ble and driveling superstition. But this error might, per 
haps, arise from a want of due attention to the founda- 
tions of human judgment, and the structure of that un- 
derstanding which God has given us for the investigation 
of truth. Let that question be answered by Mr. Locke, 
who was to the highest pitch of devotion and adoration a 



222 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Christian. Mr. Locke, whose office was to detect the 
errors of thinking, by going up to the fountains of 
thought, and to direct into the proper track of reasoning 
the devious mind of man, by showing him its whole pro- 
cess from the first perceptions of sense to the last conclu- 
sions of ratiocination; putting a rein, besides, upon false 
opinion, by practical rules for the conduct of human judg- 
ment. 

" But these men were only deep thinkers, and lived in 
^heir closets, unaccustomed to the traffic of the world, and 
to the laws which practically regulate mankind. Gentle- 
men, in the place where you now sit to administer the 
justice of this great country, above a century ago the 
never-to-be-forgotten ' Sir Mathew Hale presided, whose 
faith in Christianity is an exalted commentary upon its 
truth and reason, and whose life was a glorious example 
of its fruits in man; administering human judgment with 
a wisdom and purity drawn from the pure fountain of 
the Christian dispensation, which has been, and will be, 
in all ages, a subject of the highest reverence and admira- 
tion. 

" But it is said by Mr. Paine that the Christian fable is 
but the tale of the more ancient superstitions of the 
world, and may be easily detected by a proper understand- 
ing of the mythologies of the heathens. Did Milton 
understand those mythologies? Was he less versed than 
Mr. Paine in the superstitions of the world? No: they 
were the subject of his immortal song; and though shut 
,,ut from all recurrence to them, he poured them forth 
from the stores of a memory rich with all that man ever 
knew, and laid them in their order as the illustration of 
that real and exalted faith, the unquestionable source of 
that fervid genius, which cast a sort of shade upon all the 
other works of man: 



LORD ERSKINE. 223 

* He pass'd the bounds of flaming space, 
Where angels tremble while they gaze-, 
He saw, '.ill, blasted with excess of light, 
He clos'd his eyes in endless night!' 

" But it was the light of the body only that was ex- 
tinguished; ( the celestial light shone inward,' and enabled 
him to "'justify the ways of God to man.' The result of 
his thinking was, nevertheless, not the same as Mr. Paine's. 
The mysterious incarnation of our blessed Saviour, which 
the ' Age of Reason ' blasphemes in words so wholly unfit 
for the mouth of a Christian, or for the ear of a court of 
justice, that I dare not and will not give them utterance, 
Milton made the grand conclusion of Paradise Lost, the 
rest of his finished labors, and the ultimate hope, ex- 
pectation, and glory of the world: 

■ A Virgin is his mother, but his sire 
The power of the Most High: He shall ascend 
The throne hereditary, and bound his reign 
With Earth's wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens.' 

u The immortal poet having thus put into the mouth 
of the angel the prophecy of man's redemption, follows it 
with that solemn and beautiful admonition, addressed in 
the poem to our great First Parent, but intended as an 
address to his posterity through all generations: 

' This having learned, thou hast attained the sum 
Of wisdom: hope no higher, though all the stars 
Thou knew'st by name, and all th' ethereal powers 
All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works, 
Or works of God in heaven, air, earth or sea, 
And all the riches of this world enjoy'st, 
And all the rule one empire ; only add 
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith, 
Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love, 
By name to come called Charity, the soul 
Of all the rest; then wilt thou not be loth 
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess 
A Paradise within thee, happier far.' 



224 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" Thus you find all that is great or wise, or splendid, or 
illustrious among created beings — all the minds gifted 
beyond ordinary nature, if not inspired by their universal 
Aulhor for the advancement and dignity of the world, 
though divided by distant ages, and by the clashing 
opinions distinguishing them from one another, yet join- 
ing, as it were, in one sublime chorus to celebrate the 
truths of Christianity, and laying upon its holy altars the 
never fading offerings of their immortal wisdom." 

" Gentlemen, I can not conclude without expressing the 
deepest regret at all attacks upon the Christian religion 
by authors who profess to promote the civil liberties of 
the world. For under what other auspices than Christi- 
anity have the lost and subverted liberties of mankind in 
former ages been reasserted? By what zeal, but the warm 
zeal of devout Christians, have English liberties been 
redeemed and consecrated? Under what other sanctions, 
even in our own days, have liberty and happiness been 
extending and spreading to the uttermost corners of the 
earth? What work of civilization, what commonwealth 
of greatness, has the bald religion of nature ever estab- 
lished? We see, on the contrary, the nations that have no 
other light than that of nature to direct them, sunk in 
barbarism or slaves to arbitrary governments; while, 
since the Christian era, the great career of the world has 
been slowly, but clearly, advancing lighter at every step, 
from the awful prophecies of the Gospel, and leading, I 
trust, in the end, to universal and eternal happiness. 
Each generation of mankind can see but a few revolving 
links of this mighty and mysterious chain; but, by doing 
our several duties in our allotted stations, we are sure that 
we are fulfilling the purposes of our existence. Yon, I 
trust, will fulfill yours this day!" 

On the death of William Pitt in 1806, Mr. Erskine was 
raised to the peerage, and made Lord Chancellor. In this 



LORD ERSKINE. 225 

office he presided with dignity for thirteen months, when a 
change in the ministry taking place, he retired and ceased 
to take an active part in political affairs. 

It is painful to contemplate the evening of Lord Ers- 
kine's days. We would merely state here, that they were 
saddened by poverty, and that the luster of his fame was 
somewhat obscured by imperfections in character and con- 
duct. His decease took place on the 17th of November, 
1823, in the seventy-third year of his age. 

Mr. Wraxall, in his Posthumous Memoirs, gives a very 
lively sketch of Mr. Erskine's personal appearance: "In 
his person, Erskine combined great elegance of figure and 
manner. His movements were all rapid; appropriate to, 
and corresponding with, the texture of his mind. Intelli- 
gence flashed from his eyes; and his features, regular, pre- 
possessing, as well as harmonious, bespoke him of no 
vulgar extraction. He was slender, finely proportioned, 
and of a just stature. The tones of his voice, though 
sharp, were full; destitute of any tinge of Scottish ac- 
cent, and adequate to every professional purpose or exi- 
gency ,5 

Among forensic orators of ancient or modern times, 
Lord Erskine stands in the foremost rank. In some re- 
spects — in the grandeur of his diction — in the melliflu- 
ence of his voice — in the fascination of his manner, — and 
in the splendor of his eloquence, he surpasses all lawyers 
in modern times, and may be considered the ablest and 
most accomplished advocate that ever graced the Bar. 

By universal consent, Lord Erskine stands at the head 
of our forensic eloquence. In whatever light we viow 
him in the forum, he appears to be the same exalted char- 
acter, commanding our respect by the dignity of his 
appearance, exciting our admiration by the gracefulness 
of his action, the propriety of his enunciation, the beauty 

of his language, the sweetness of his tones, and fascinating 
29 



226 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

us by the light of his eye, and the magic of his sublime ; 
overpowering declamation. 

The oratory of Lord Erskine was admirably adapted tc 
impress and sway a court or jury. It exercised an unrivaled 
power over them. By its secret, fascinating influence, suc- 
cess, in almost all important cases, was inevitable. Lord 
Erskine's great power lay in addressing a court or jury. 
Whenever he rose to speak, he poured forth such a rapid 
stream of unbroken eloquence that both court and jury 
were carried away in astonishment- It has been curiously 
remarked of him, as of Scarlett, that "he had invented a 
machine by the secret use of which, in court, he could 
make the head of a judge nod assent to his propositions; 
whereas his rivals, who tried to pirate it, always made the 
same head move from side to side." All this was the effect 
of genuine, soul-stirring eloquence. 

" The oratory of Erskine owed much of its impressive- 
ness to his admirable delivery. He was of the medium 
height, with a slender, but finely turned figure, animated and 
graceful in gesture, with a voice somewhat shrill but 
beautifully modulated, a countenance beaming with emo- 
tion, and an eye of piercing keenness and power." His 
eye, like that of Chatham's, was his most wonderful fea- 
ture; and to its keen lightning his eloquence was indebted 
for much of its splendor and power. Carrying conviction 
and insuring victory, it impressed the court and jury with 
awe, and held them in breathless attention. " Juries," in 
the words of Lord Brougham, " have declared that they 
felt it impossible to remove their looks from him, when 
he had riveted, and, as it were, fascinated them by his 
first glance; and it used to be a common remark of men 
who observed his motions, that they resembled those of a 
blood-horse ; as light, as agile, as much betokening strength 
and speed, as free from all gross superfluity or incum - 
brance. 



LORD ERbKINE. 227 

" Then hear his voice of surpassing sweetness, clear, flexi- 
ble, strong, exquisitely fitted to strains of serious arnest- 
ness, deficient in compass, indeed, and much less fitted to 
express indignation or even scorn than pathos, but wholly 
free from either harshness or monotony. All these, how- 
ever, and even his chaste, dignified, and appropriate action, 
were very small parts of this wonderful advocate's excel- 
lence. He had a thorough knowledge of men — of their 
passions and their feelings — he knew every avenue to the 
heart, and could at will make all its chords vibrate to his 
touch. 

" To these qualities he joined that fire, that spirit, that 
courage, which gave vigor and direction to the whole, and 
bore down all resistance."* 

Of the nature and effects of that glowing eloquence 
which Lord Erskine so often displayed before an astonished 
court, we can form no adequate conceptions. The charms, 
beauty and force of his oratory, like those of the great 
Athenian orator, lay in his admirable delivery. This was 
the great secret of his success; and it is the foundation of 
all good speaking. In order to form a proper conception 
of the splendor and power of Erskine's eloquence, we 
should have seen that noble form, that animated counte- 
nance, those graceful and vehement gestures, — ■ we should 
have listened to that musical tone, that harmonious sound, 

* " The eloquence of Lord Erskine sprang, indeed, from the purest sources, 
and was directed to the noblest ends. It emanated from a mind enlarged by 
general knowledge; endowed with singular sensibility, and refined by elegant 
taste; it was roused to action by the justest and noblest of human passions — 
an ardent love of freedom and of fame, founded upon the true happiness and 
lasting glory of his country. Born to what few men acquire, except by severe 
study and long experience as a lawyer, he attained, almost at once, the highest 
rank in his profession, and, as an orator, instantaneously to the summit of his 
art: having gained without effort, he preserved without rivalry, a reputation, 
the luster of which has never been equaled, and probably will never be sur- 
passed." — The Pamphleteer, vol. 23, p. 417. 



228 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

that deep thrilling pathos, and that lofty, soul-stirring 
strain. In a word, we should have caught the sudden 
glance of that piercing eye, and heard the low tones and 
swelling notes of that clear, melodious voice. These were 
the charms, the indescribable charms, which were thrown 
around the oratory of Lord Erskine. They centered in 
delivery. 

" There's a charm in deliv'ry, a magical art, 

That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip to the heart; 

'Tis the glance — the expression — the well-chosen word — 

By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirr'd — 

The smile — the mute gesture — the soul-stirring pause — 

The eye's sweet expression, that melts while it awes — 

The lip's soft persuasion — its musical tone : 

Oh! such were the charms of that eloquent one!" 

The fancy of Lord Erskine was exceedingly brilliant, 
and sometimes " eminently sportive." The language in 
which he clothed his thoughts was beautiful and impres- 
sive. Nothing can exceed the grandeur of his diction or 
the elegance of his rythmus. 

His written speeches and arguments are among the 
finest specimens of chaste composition — of close, power- 
ful reasoning — of lofty, glowing eloquence, — that are to be 
found in the orations of our orators. The four great 
arguments of Erskine in the cases of Lord George Gor- 
don, of the Dean of St. Asaph, of Hardy, and of Hadfield, 
are among the finest efforts of genius in the English 
language, and contain a vast amount of useful informa- 
tion for the lawyer.* They should not, however, be passed 

* " His speeches, stored as they are with the soundest political doctrines, 
the finest moral sentiments, and the purest oratorical beauties, are calculated 
eminently to enlighten, and permanently to please-, they are qualified to make 
men not only wiser, but better-, to expand their views, to confirm their prin- 
ciples, and to meliorate their hearts ; to teach them to pursue the dictates of 
duty, at every pain and peril; and to uphold the Interests of humanity in every 
sphere and season." — The Pamphleteer. • 



LORDERSKINE. 229 

over by the general student in oratory. They deserve his 
closest attention. " Nothing can be more useful to our 
young orators of any profession, than to make them- 
selves perfectly acquainted with these admirable speci- 
mens of reasoning, whatever toil it may cost them. Such 
productions, as Johnson said of a similar class of writings, 
e are bark and steel to the mind.' " 

We shall close our observations on the style of Lord 
Erskine with the appropriate and judicious remarks of 
"Prof. Goodrich: — 

" His style was chaste, forcible, and harmonious, a model 
of graceful variety, without the slightest mannerism or 
straining after effect. His rhythmus was beautiful; that 
of the passage containing his Indian Chief is surpassed by 
nothing of the kind in our language. His sentences were 
sometimes too long — a fault which rose from the close- 
ness and continuity of his thought. 

" The exordium with which Erskine introduced a speech 
was always natural, ingenious, and highly appropriate; 
none of our orators have equaled him in this respect. The 
arrangement of the matter which followed was highly 
felicitous; and he had this peculiarity, which gave great 
unity and force to his arguments, that f he proposed ' in 
the words of another, l a great leading principle, to which 
all his efforts were referable and subsidiary — which ran 
through the whole of his address, governing and elucidat- 
ing every part. As the principle was a true one, whatever 
might be its application to that particular case, it gave to 
his whole speech an air of honesty and sincerity which it 
was difficult to resist.' " 

We would turn from the contemplation of Lord Ers- 
kine with feelings of admiration at the brilliancy of his 
genius, the vast resources of his mind, and the splendor 
of his astonishing, overpowering eloquence. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN". 

John Philpot Curran was born at Newmarket, a small 
village in the county of Cork, Ireland, on the 24th of 
July, 1750. At the age of nineteen, he entered Trinity 
College, Dublin. Completing his college course, without 
any marks of distinction, he proceeded to London, and 
commenced the study of the law in the Middle Temple. 
Here he pursued his studies with great ardor. He spemt 
his mornings " in reading even to exhaustion, and the rest 
of the day in the more congenial pursuits of literature." 
Of his studies and amusements in London, he thus 
writes: "I have made some additions to my wardrobe, 
and purchased a fiddle, which I had till then denied my- 
self. Do not think, however, from my mentioning these 
indulgences, that I have diminished my hours of reading. 
All I have done by the change is employing the time that 
must otherwise be vacant in amusement instead of soli- 
tude. I still continue to read ten hours every day — seven 
at law, and three at history and the general principles of 
politics; and, that I may have time enough, I rise at half- 
past four. I have contrived a machine after the manner 
of an hour-glass, which perhaps you may be curious to 
know, which wakens me regularly at that hour. Exactly 
over my head I have suspended, two vessels of tin, one 
above the other. When I go to bed, which is always at 
ten, I pour a bottle of water into the upper vessel, in the 
bottom of which is a hole of such a size as to let the water 



JOHN PHiLPGT CURRAN. 231 

pass through so as to make the inferior reservoir overflow 
in six hours and a half. I have had no small trouble in 
proportioning these vessels; and I was still more puzzled 
for a while how to confine my head so as to receive the 
drop, but I have at length succeeded." 

In order to perfect himself in the art of public speak- 
ing, Mr. Curran commenced a system of discipline almost 
as severe as that adopted by the great Athenian master 
His efforts to become a perfect orator, like those of De- 
mosthenes, were unremitted; and it is very encouraging 
for the young student to reflect upon the success with 
which these efforts were, at length, crowned.* In con- 
templating the difficulties which he had to surmount in 
order to become a commanding speaker, who should 
despair of ultimate success? Let the student in oratory 
be animated by the noble example of those eminent 
speakers who set out with hardly any hope of success, 
but whose eloquence at last shone in the highest noon 
of splendor. What triumphs in oratory have been 
achieved simply by indomitable courage and steady perse- 
verance! The force of this sus^estion will be seen and 
felt by a recurrence to the early history of Demosthenes, 
Chatham, Sheridan, Wirt, and Curran. That glory which 
has encircled them was derived mainly by the persever- 
ing cultivation of their oratorical powers. 

Curran commenced speaking with a voice so bad, and 
with an articulation so hasty and confused, that he received 
the name of " stuttering Jack Curran." " His manner was 
awkward, his gesture constrained and meaningless, and 
his whole appearance calculated only to produce laughter, 
notwithstanding the evidence he gave of superior abilities. 
All these faults he overcame by severe and patient labor.'' 

Now for the course which he pursued, — a course which 

* " The art of speaking well requires close application, extensive practice, 
repeated trials, deep sagacity, and a ready invention. " — Quintilian. 



232 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

all, who would obtain great distinction in eloquence, 
must adopt. Like Demosthenes, Curran practiced daily 
before a glass, repeating some of the finest expressions of 
eminent writers with which he met in a long course of 
reading and study. In this way he recited admirable 
passages from Shakspeare, and the best English writers 
and orators. He regularly attended debating societies, but 
here he was at first ridiculed by his opponents and morti- 
fied by repeated failures. One of his earliest efforts be- 
fore a little debating club, is thus graphically described 
by himself. Long after his first attempts, some one speak- 
ing to him of his eloquence, said: " It must have been born 
with you." " Indeed, my dear sir," replied Curran, " it 
was not. It was born three and twenty years and some 
months after me. When I was at the Temple a few of us 
formed a little debating club, where all the great questions 
in ethics and politics were discussed and irrevocably set- 
tled. Upon the first night of our assembling, I attended, 
my foolish heart throbbing with the anticipated honor of 
being styled, ' the honored member that opened the debate,* 
or e the very eloquent gentleman who had just sat down.' 
All day the scene Jiad been Hitting before my fancy and 
cajoling it; my ear already caught the glorious melody of 
; hear him, hear him!' I stood up. The question was the 
Catholic claims, or the slave trade, I forget which. My 
mind was stored with about a folio volume of matter. I 
stood up, trembling through every fibre, but remembering 
that in this I was imitating Cicero, I took courage, and 
had actually proceeded as far as ■ Mr. Chairman,' when to 
my astonishment and terror I perceived that every eye 
was riveted upon me. There was but six or seven present, 
and the little room could not hold as many more, yet was 
it to my panic-struck imagination as if I were the central 
object in nature, and assembled millions were gazing on 
me with breathless expectation. I became dismayed and 



JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 233 

dumb. My friends cried 'hear him!' but theie was noth- 
ing to hear, So you see it was not born in me. My 
friends despaired of my ever making a speaker, but I 
wouid not give it up. I attended the debates punctually, 
I said yes and no, till at length one in his speech referred 
to me, calling me ' orator mum,' whom he doubted not 
possessed wonderful talents for eloquence although he 
would recommend him to show it in future by some more 
popular method than his silence. I followed his advice." 

Curran did truly follow the advice of his opponent; he 
went on in his glorious career till he triumphed over the pas- 
sions of his hearers, — till he exhibited the highest powers 
of oratory, and held admiring courts and juries in breath- 
less suspense and astonishment. " He turned his shrill 
and stumbling brogue," says one of his friends, " into a 
flexible, sustained, and finely-modulated voice; his action 
became free and forcible; he acquired perfect readiness in 
thinking on his legs; he put down every opponent by the 
mingled force of his argument and wit, and was at last 
crowned with the universal applause of the society, and 
invited by the president to an entertainment in their 
behalf." " Well might one of his biographers say, ' His 
oratorical training was as severe as any Greek ever under- 
went.' " 

From 1783 to 1797, Mr. Curran was a member of the 
Irish House of Commons. He was a warm advocate of 
emancipation and reform. As a parliamentary orator, he 
was never distinguished; it was at the bar that his elo- 
quence burst forth with such splendor; here it was that 
he obtained unrivaled mastery over the passions of his 
auditors, and controlled them like an enchanter. While 
adlressing the jury he was in his element; his education 
was forensic, and he was the glory of the forum. Here his 
intellect shone in all its brightness and steadiness, com- 
manding the admiration of friends and foes. His greatest 
30 



234 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

speeches were made at state trials arising out of the United 
Irish conspiracy. The most splendid effort of his geDius, 
is his celebrated speech in behalf of Mr. Rowan, who was 
indicted for the publication of a seditious libel; delivered 
on the 29th of January, 1794. It contains those ad&iirable 
passages — the finest he ever produced — on universal 
emancipation, and the liberty of the press. We quote 
them here as affording the best specimen of Curran's elo- 
quence; but still it should be borne in mind that it was 
not the terseness of language, but the manner, principally, 
in which his great efforts were made, thai invested his 
oratory with such irresistible power, and caused it to pro- 
duce such wonderful effects. In order then to form an 
idea of that masterly eloquence whitfh subdued every 
heart, we must call up in our minds the living speaker, 
with his glowing eye, and expressive countenance; his 
bold and impassioned gestures; his finely -modulated voice 
and musical tones; his wit and mimicry; his tenderness 
and pathos; his cutting sarcaszn, and overwhelming in- 
vective. 

The first extract which we give from the speech just 
mentioned, is on the Liberty of the Press. " What then 
remains'? The liberty of the press only — that sacred 
palladium which no influence, no power, no minister, no 
government, which nothing but the depravity, or folly, or 
corruption of a jury, can ever destroy. 

" In that awful moment of a nation's travail, of the last 
gasp of tyranny and the first breath of freedom, how preg- 
nant is the example! The press extinguished, the people 
enslaved, and the prince undone. As the advocate of 
society, therefore — of peace — of domestic liberty — and 
the lasting union of the two countries — I conjure you to 
guard the liberty of the press, that great sentinel of the 
state, that great detector of public imposture; guard it, 
because, when it sinks, there sinks with it, in one common 



JOHN PHILPOT GCiiRAN. 235 

grave, the liberty of the subject and the security of the 
Crown. 

" There is a sort of aspiring and adventurous credulity 
which disdains assenting to obvious truths, and delights in 
catching at the improbability of circumstances, as its best 
ground of faith. To what other cause, gentlemen, can 
you ascribe that, in the wise, the reflecting, and the philo- 
sophical nation of Great Britain, a printer has been found 
guilty of a libel, for publishing those resolutions, to which 
the present minister of that kingdom had actually sub- 
scribed his name? To what other cause can you ascribe, 
what in my mind is still more astonishing, in such a 
country as Scotland, a nation cast in the happy medium 
between the spiritless acquiescence of submissive poverty, 
and the sturdy credulity of pampered wealth ; cool and 
ardent, adventurous and persevering; winging her eagle 
flight against the blaze of every science, with an eye that 
never winks, and a wing that never tires; crowned as she is 
with the spoils of every art, and decked with the wreath of 
every muse; from the deep and scrutinizing researches of 
her Hume, to the sweet and simple, but not less sublime and 
pathetic morality of her Burns — how, from the bosom of a 
country like that, genius and character, and talents, should 
be banished to a distant, barbarous soil; condemned to 
pine under the horrid communion of vulgar vice and base- 
born profligacy, for twice the period that ordinary calcu- 
lation gives to the continuance of human life? But I will 
not further press any idea that is painful to me, and I am 
sure must be painful to you. I will only say, you have 
now an example of which neither England nor Scotland 
had the advantage. You have the example of the panic, 
the infatuation, and the contrition of both. It is now for 
you to decide whether you will profit by their experience 
of idle panic and idle regret, or whether you merely 
prefer to palliate a servile imitation of their frailty, by a 



236 ORATORS }. S D STATESMEN. 

paltry affectation of their repentance. It is now for you 
to show that you are not carried away by the same hectic 
delusions, to acts of which no tears can wash away the 
consequences or the indelible reproach." 

Here we have the fine passage on Universal Emancipa- 
tion: "I speak in the spirit of the British law, which 
makes liberty commensurate with, and inseparable from, 
the British soil — which proclaims, even to the stranger 
and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British 
earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy and con- 
secrated by the genius of Universal Emancipation. No 
matter in what language his doom may be pronounced; 
no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom, an 
Indian or an African sun may have burned upon him; no 
matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been 
cloven down ; no matter with what solemnities he may 
have been devoted upon the altar of slavery; the first 
moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar 
and the god sink together in the dust; his soul walks 
abroad in her own majesty; his body swells beyond the 
measure of his chains that burst from around him, and he 
stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the 
irresistible genius of Universal Emancipation."* 

The peroration of this great speech is beautifully con- 
ceived. It reminds us of some of Grattan's magnificent 
expressions. " Upon this subject credit me when I say 
that I am still more anxious for you than I can be for him. 
I can not but feel the peculiarity of your situation. Not 
the jury of his own choice, which the law of England 
allows, but which ours refuses, collected in that box by a 

* " The origin of this fine passage may be traced to the following lines of 
Cowper : 

' Slaves can not breathe in England; if their lungs 
Receive our air, that moment they are free; 
They touch our country and their shackles fell. 1 " — Task, book li. 



JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN 237 

person certainly no friend to Mr. Rowan, certainly not 
very deeply interested in giving him a very impartial jury 
Feeling this, as I am persuaded you do, you can not be 
surprised, however you may be distressed at the mournful 
presage with which an anxious public is led to fear the 
worst from your possible determination. But I will not, 
for the justice and honor of our common country, suffer 
my mind to be borne away by such melancholy anticipa- 
tions. I will not relinquish the confidence that this day 
will be the period of his sufferings; and however merciless 
he has been hitherto pursued, that your verdict will send 
him home to the arms of his family and the wishes of his 
country. But if, which Heaven forbid, it hath still been 
unfortunately determined that, because he has not bent 
to power and authority, because he would not bow down 
before the golden calf and worship it, he is to be bound 
and cast into the furnace; I do trust in God that there is 
a redeeming spirit in the Constitution which will be seen 
to walk with the sufferer through the flames, and to pre- 
serve him unhurt by the conflagration."* 

In 1806, Mr. Cnrran was appointed Master of the Rolls; 
in 1814, he resigned this office on account of ill health, and 
spent his time in visiting foreign countries. Returning 

* "When Mr. Curran terminated this magnificent exertion, the universal 
shout of the audience testified its enthusiasm. He used to relate a ludicrous 
incident which attended his departure from the court after the trial. His path 
was instantly beset by the populace, who were bent on chairing him. He 
implored — he entreated — all in vain . At length, assuming an air of authority, 
he addressed those nearest to him: ' I desire, gentlemen, that you will desist.' 
4 1 laid great emphasis,' says Curran, ' on the w<nd desist, and put on my best 
suit of dignity. However, my next neighbor, a gigantic, brawny chairman, 
eyeing me, with a somewhat contemptuous affection, from top to toe, bellowed 
out to his companion, Arrah, blood and turf! Pat, don't mind the little 
crature; here, pitch him up this minute on my showlder. ' Pat did as he was 
desired; the 'little crature ' was carried nolens volens to his carriage, and 
drawn home by an applauding populace. It was a great treat to hea** Ctrraa 
describe this scene and act it." — Charles Phillips. 



2 3 S ORATORS AND STATESMjJ* . 

to London, he was attacked with apoplexy, and died in a 
few days after, on the 14th of October, 1817, in the sixty- 
eighth year of his age. 

The personal appearance of Mr. Curran is vividly de- 
scribed by his friend and biographer, the eloquent Charles 
Phillips,* in his beautiful sketch of the orator and his 
contemporaries. " Mr. Curran was short of stature, with 
a swarthy complexion, and ' an eye that glowed like a live 
coal.' His countenance was singularly expressive; and, 
as he stood before a jury, he not only read their hearts 
with a searching glance, but he gave them back his own, 
in all the fluctuations of his feelings, from laughter to 
tears. His gesture was bold and impassioned; his articu- 
lation was uncommonly distinct and deliberate; the modu- 
lations of his voice were varied in a high degree, and 
perfectly suited to the widest range of his eloquence." 

The eloquence of Mr. Curran was of the most copious, 
fervid and expressive kind; it almost universally sparkled 
with wit, humor, fun and ridicule; sometimes it was 
fraught with the most bitter sarcasm and raging invective; 
at other times it was expressed in the deepest pathos, 
causing tears to flow from every eye. " His power lay in 
the variety and strength of his emotions. He delighted a 
jury by his wit; he turned the court-room into a scene of 
the broadest farce by his humor, mimicry, or fun; he 
made it ' a place of tears,' by a tenderness and pathos 
which subdued every heart; he poured out his invective 
like a stream of lava, *and inflamed the minds of his 
countrymen almost to madness by the recital of their 

* " Mr. Phillips' sketch of his friend is certainly one of the most extraordi- 
nary pieces of biography ever produced. Nothing can be more lively and pic- 
turesque than its representation of the famous original. The reader of it can 
hardly be said not to have personally known Curran and his contemporaries. 
It has been justly said of this admirable work that it is Bos well minus Bozzy." 
— Brougham, 



JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN". 239 

wrongs. His rich and powerful imagination furnished the 
materials for these appeals, and his instinctive know- 
ledge of the heart taught him how to use them with un- 
failing success." 

Mr. Curran was one of the most popular orators of his 
day. His ascendancy over the feelings of his countrymen 
was complete. He spoke — and the nation listened. He 
put forth his thoughts in language that stirred the hearts 
of all. His imagination was fertile; his language was 
striking and appropriate; his pathos was refined and 
thrilling; his whole appearance indicated earnestness and 
sincerity. In many respects, his eloquence was similar to 
that of his intimate associate and illustrious rival, Thomas 
Addis Emmet; and the folio vying comments of Justice 
Story on the character of Mr. Emmet will apply with 
equal force and truth to Mr. Curran: "His mind was 
quick, vigorous, searching and buoyant. He kindled as 
he spoke. There was a spontaneous combustion, as it 
were, not sparkling, but clear and glowing. His object 
seemed to be, not to excite wonder or surprise, to capti- 
vate by bright pictures, and varied images, and graceful 
groups, and startling apparitions; but by earnest and close 
reasoning to convince the judgment, or to overwhelm the 
heart by awakening its most profound emotions. His own 
feelings were w T arm and easily touched. His sensibility 
was keen, and refined itself almost into a melting tender- 
ness. His knowledge of the human heart was various and 
exact. He was easily captivated by a belief that his own 
cause was just. Hence, his eloquence was most striking 
for its persuasiveness. He said what he felt; and he felt 
what he said. His command over the passions of others 
was an instantaneous and sympathetic action. The tones 
of his voice, when he touched on topics calling for deep 
feeling, were instinct with meaning. They were utterances 
of the soul as well as of the lips." 



CHAPTER IX. 



KICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 

When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan 

Arose to Heaven in her appeal to man, 

His was the thunder — his the avenging rod — 

The wrath — the delegated voice of God, 

Which shook the nations through his lips and blazed, 

Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised. — Byron. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan was born at Dublin, in Sep- 
tember, 1751. His father, Thomas Sheridan, was connected 
with the stage, during most of his life, and was a worthy 
rival of Garrick. Young Sheridan was sent to Harrow 
school, where he enjoyed the instructions of the celebrated 
Dr Parr. Like Burke, he gave, during his school-boy 
days, but little promise of future eminence. In indolence 
and carelessness, he resembled Patrick Henry. 

The attention of Sheridan being early turned to theatri- 
cal composition, he produced several dramatic essays, 
which soon placed him in the first rank of comic writers. 

In 1780, Mr. Sheridan entered Parliament as a repre- 
sentative of Stafford. In the same year he delivered his 
maiden speech which was an unsuccessful effort. After 
he had finished his speech he went into the gallery 
and asked Woodfall, the reporter, with much anxiety, 
what he thought of his first attempt. " I am sorry to say," 
replied Woodfall, " that I don't think oratory is in your 
line — you had better have stuck to your former pur- 
suits." Such an answer would have discouraged any one 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 241 

but a persevering man. Sheridan, resting his head on his 
hand, was struck mute for a few moments, and then ex- 
claimed with great vehemence, " It is in me, however, 
Woodfall, and it shall come out of me/ 11 And it did come 
out of him in such richness, variety, fascination and 
splendor, that listening senates and admiring audiences 
were delighted, astonished and swayed by its strain. From 
this moment, Mr. Sheridan devoted himself with the 
utmost assiduity to the study of oratory. 

Daring the brief administration of Lord Rockingham 
in 1782, Mr. Sheridan came into office as Under Secretary 
of State. On the decease of Rockingham, he resigned 
with Fox, Burke, and others, when Lord Shelburne was 
made Prime Minister. 

William Pitt, now coming into the new ministry as 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, undertook to put Air. Sheri- 
dan down by contemptuous allusions to his theatrical pur- 
suits. Mr. Sheridan retorted upon him with his ready 
wit — a weapon which he could always use to the greatest 
advantage. " No man," said Mr. Pitt, " admires more 
than I do the abilities of that right honorable gentle- 
man — the elegant sallies of his thought, the gay effusions 
of his fancy, his dramatic turns, and his epigrammatic 
point. If they were reserved for the proper stage, they 
would no doubt receive the plaudits of the audience; 
and it would be the fortune of the right honorable gentle- 
man, c sui plausu gaudere theatri.' " Mr. Sheridan replied 
to this insolent language, with admirable adroitness, in 
the following words: " On the particular sort of person- 
ality which the right honorable gentleman has thought 
proper to make use of, I need not comment. The propriety, 
the taste, and the gentlemanly point of it must be obvious 
to this House. But let me assure the right honorable gen- 
tleman that I do now, and will, at any time he chooses to 

repeat this sort of allusion, meet it with the most perfect 
31 



242 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

good humor. Nay, I will say more. Flattered and en- 
couraged by the right honorable gentleman's panegyric on 
my talents, if I ever engage again in the composition he 
alludes to, I may be tempted to an act of presumption, 
and attempt an improvement on one of Ben Jonson's best 
characters, that of the Angry Boy, in the Alchemist." 
" The effect was irresistible. The House was convulsed with 
laughter; and Mr. Pitt came very near having the title of 
the Angry Boy fastened on him for the remainder of his 
life," 

The greatest glory of Mr. Sheridan's career resulted 
from the trial of Warren Hastings, in which he was chosen 
one of the managers. On the 7th of February, 1786, he 
came forward against Mr. Hastings in one of the most 
wonderful speeches ever delivered. It was founded on the 
charge relating to Mr. Hasting's cruel treatment of the 
Begums, princesses of Oude, whom he had ordered to be 
tortured until twelve hundred thousand pounds were 
extorted from them. This celebrated speech not having 
been reported with any accuracy is now wholly lost; but 
it is represented as an astonishing exhibition of oratory. 
Its effects were unexampled in the annals of ancient or 
modern eloquence. During the delivery of this speech the 
whole assembly listened with breathless admiration to the 
orator; and at the conclusion they broke forth into long- 
continued and tumultuous applause. Mr. Fox declared 
of this speech, that all he had ever heard, all that he had 
ever read, when compared with it dwindled into nothing 
and vanished like vapor before the sun ; — and Mr. Pitt 
acknowledged that it surpassed all the eloquence of 
ancient and modern times, and possessed every thing that 
genius or art could furnish to agitate or control the 
human mind. Mr. Burke said that it was the most aston- 
ishing effort of eloquence, argument, and wit, united, of 
which there wa? any record or tradition. A motion was 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 243 

immediately made to adjourn, that the House might have 
time to recover their calmness, and collect their reason 
after the excitement they had undergone. Sir W. Doblen 
who made this motion declared that in the state of mind 
in which Mr. Sheridan's speech had left him, it was im- 
possible for him to give a determinate opinion; and Mr. 
Stanhope, who seconded the motion, affirmed that he had 
come to the House prepossessed in favor of Mr. Hastings, 
but such had been the wonderful efficacy of the orator's 
convincing details of facts and irresistible eloquence, that 
nothing less than a miracle could now prevent him from 
voting for the impeachment. Mr. Pitt, in supporting the 
motion for adjournment, declared that it was impossible 
to exercise reason freely " while under the wand of the 
enchanter." In Bissett's Reign of George III, an anec- 
dote is related, which, if true, well exhibits the irre- 
sistible power of this sudden burst of eloquence. It is 
as follows: — "The Rev. Mr. Logan, a distinguished cler- 
gyman of the Church of Scotland, and author of a 
masterly defense of Mr. Hastings, went that day to the 
House prepossessed for the accused and against the accu- 
ser. At the expiration of the first hour, he said to a 
friend, ' All this is declamatory assertion without proof;' 
when the second was finished, ' This is a most wonderful 
oration;' at the close of the third, ' Mr. Hastings has acted 
unjustifiably;' the fourth, ' Mr. Hastings is a most atro- 
cious criminal;' and at last, ' Of all monsters of iniquity, 
the most enormous is Warren Hastings!'" Similar 
remarks relating to this wonderful oration were made 
long after the heat of excitement had subsided. Twenty 
years after, Mr. Fox declared it to be the best speech ever 
made in the House of Commons; and Mr. Windham said 
that the speech deserved all its fame, and was, in spite 
of some faults of taste, such as were seldom wanting in 
the literary or in the parliamentary performances of 



244 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Sheridan, the greatest that had been delivered within the 
memory of man. 

Mr. Wraxall characterizes the efforts of Sheridan and 
Burke on the evening of the 7th of February, 1786, as 
" the most splendid display of eloquence and talent which 
has been exhibited in the House of Commons during the 
present reign. This pre-eminence seems to be accorded 
by all parties to Sheridan's memorable speech respecting 
Hastings' treatment of the Begums or Princesses of Oude. 
It occupied considerably more than five hours in the 
delivery, attracted the most intense attention, and was 
succeeded, at its close, by a general, involuntary pause 
or hum of admiration, which lasted several minutes. 
Unquestionably, it formed a most extraordinary effort of 
human genius, labor, and wit, stamped tnroughout with 
the characteristic marks of Sheridan's genius; for no man 
accustomed to his style of composition, oral or written, 
could for an instant mistake the author. In many parts 
and passages it was absolutely dramatic; not less so than 
the ' Duenna,' or the ' School for Scandal.' Those pieces 
belong indeed to comedy, while the charge in question 
partook, it may be said, of the nature of tragedy. Yet so 
admirably could Sheridan adapt his theme to circum- 
stances, that he contrived to lend point to incidents the 
most revolting, and excited smiles while detailing scenes 
of the deepest distress. Burke, it is true, frequently 
passed with rapid transitions, from indignation or invec- 
tive, to raillery, or levity. But he was borne away by an 
ardent imagination that often outran his reason. Sheri- 
dan's invocations, allusions, and exclamations the most 
pathetic, though clothed with all the garb of nature or of 
passion, were not less the fruit of consummate art and 
mature reflection. He neither lost his temper, his memory, 
nor his judgment, throughout the whole performance; 
blending the legal accuracy of the bar, when stating facts 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 245 

or depositions of witnesses, with the most impassioned 
appeals to justice, pity, and humanity. Never was the 
triumph of genius over a popular assembly more signally 
displayed than in the speech of Sheridan !" 

Soon after the delivery of this brilliant speech a bill of 
impeachment was found against Mr. Hastings, and Mr. 
Sheridan was called upon to produce another speech on 
the Begum Charge. On the 3d of June, 1788, in the 
presence of one of the most dignified and august assem- 
blies that was ever congregated in Westminster Hall, he 
commenced his second speech which lasted four days, 
during which he delighted and astonished that vast assem- 
bly of illustrious personages, with an unbroken stream 
of the loftiest declamation. To such a height was the 
expectation of the public raised, that an immense con- 
course of people was brought together to hear the speech; 
the hall was crowded to suffocation; and such eagerness 
was manifested to obtain seats that " fifty Guineas were in 
some instances paid for a single ticket." 

In point of true eloquence this speech was perhaps far 
inferior to Mr. Sheridan's first effort on the same charge, 
before the House of Commons, yet it was pronounced by 
all who heard it, a speech of astonishing power. Mr. Burke 
in particular, was carried away in admiration of Mr. 
Sheridan's oratorical powers. On this occasion he eulo- 
gized the orator in the following high terms : — 

" He has this day surprised the thousands who hung 
with raptures on his accents, by such an array of talents, 
such an exhibition of capacity, such a display of powers, 
as are unparalleled in the annals of oratory! a display 
that reflects the highest honor upon himself — luster upon 
letters — renown upon parliament — glory upon the coun- 
try. Of all species of rhetoric, of every kind of eloquence 
that has been witnessed or recorded, either in ancient or 
modern times: whatever the acuteness of the bar, the 



246 ORATORS vND STATESMEN. 

dignity of the senate, the solidity of the judgment seat, 
and the sacred morality of the pulpit, have hitherto fur- 
nished, nothing has surpased, nothing has equaled, what 
we have this day heard in Westminster Hall. No holy 
seer of religion, no sage, no statesmen, no orator, no man 
of any literary description whatever, has come up, in the 
one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality; or, in 
the other, to that variety of knowledge, force of imagina- 
tion, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and ele- 
gance of diction, strength and copiousness of style, pathos 
and sublimity of conception, to which we have this day 
listened with ardor and admiration. From poetry up to 
eloquence, there is not a species of composition of which 
a complete and perfect specimen might not from that single 
speech be culled and collected." 

The reports of Mr. Sheridan's speeches are so imperfect 
and conflicting that we have but little to offer as a fair 
specimen of his style. The precise language in which 
they were delivered, we can not possibly have. The same 
is true of many of those printed senatorial orations of our 
greatest English orators. The sentiments may be theirs, 
but the language, in most instances, is the reporter's. 
Would it be fair then to judge of the style of an orator 
simply by the inaccurate reports of his speeches? 

The best speech of Mr. Sheridan, doubtless is the one 
above mentioned, yet it is but imperfectly reported. Even 
thus, however, it contains many passages of lofty and 
genuine eloquence. The description of the Desolation of 
Oude — the result of English cruelty and rapacity — is the 
most graphic and powerful passage in the speeches of 
Sheridan. We may here remark that some of his most 
labored passages are chargeable with some " faults of 
taste;" but the graphic description which we are about to 
quote is free from such defects. It affords a fine specimen 
of Mr. Sheridan's style: 



RICHARD BRjlNSLEY SHERIDAN. 247 

" If, my Lords, a stranger had at this time entered the 
province of Oude, ignorant of what had happened since 
the death of Sujah Dowlah — that prince who with a 
savage heart had still great lines of character, and who, 
with all his ferocity in war, had, with a cultivating hand, 
preserved to his country the wealth which it derived from 
benignant skies and a prolific soil — if, observing the wide 
and general devastation of fields unclothed and brown; 
of vegetation burned up and extinguished; of villages 
depopulated and in ruin; of temples unroofed and perish- 
ing; of reservoirs broken down and dry, this stranger 
should ask, ' What has thus laid waste this beautiful and 
opulent land; what monstrous madness has ravaged with 
wide-spread war; what desolating foreign foe; what civil 
discords; what disputed succession; what religious zeal; 
what fabled monster has stalked abroad, and, with malice 
and mortal enmity to man, withered by the grasp of death 
every growth of nature and humanity, all means of de- 
light, and each original, simple principle of bare exist- 
ence'?' the answer would have been, not one of these 
causes! No wars have ravaged these lands and depopu- 
lated these villages! No desolating foreign foe! No do- 
mestic broils! No disputed succession! No religious, 
super-serviceable zeal! No poisonous monster! No afflic- 
tion of Providence, which, while it scourged us, cut off 
the sources of resuscitation ! No ! This damp of death is 
the mere effusion of British amity ! We sink under the 
pressure of their support! We writhe under their perfidi- 
ous gripe ! They have embraced us with their protecting 
arms, and lo ! these are the fruits of their alliance ! 

" What then, my Lords, shall we bear to be told that, 
under such circumstances, the exasperated feelings of a 
whole people, thus spurred on to clamor and resistance, 
were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the 
Begums? After hearing the description given by an eye- 



248 ORATORS AND STATESMEN". 

witness [Colonel Naylor, successor of Hannay], of the 
paroxysm of fever and delirium into which despair threw 
the natives when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, 
panting for breath, they tore more widely open the lips of 
their gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution; and 
while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly 
eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer 
that the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their 
blood; but that it might rise up to the throne of God, and 
rouse the eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their 
country — will it be said that all this was brought about 
by the incantations of these Begums in their secluded 
Zenana; or that they could inspire this enthusiasm and 
this despair into the breasts of a people who felt no griev- 
ance, and had suffered no torture? What motive, then, 
could have such influence in their bosom? What motive! 
That which nature, the common parent, plants in the 
bosom of man; and which, though-it may be less active in 
the Indian than in the Englishman, is still congenial with, 
and makes a part of his being. That feeling which tells 
him that man was never made to be the property of man; 
but that, when in the pride and insolence of power, one 
human creature dares to tyrannize over another, it is a 
po^er usurped, and resistance is a duty. That principle 
which tells him that resistance to power usurped is not 
merely a duty which he owes to himself and to his neigh- 
bor, but a duty which he owes to his God, in asserting and 
maintaining the rank which he gave him in his creation. 
That principle which neither the rudeness of ignorance 
can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish t 
That principle which makes it base for a man to suffer 
when he ought to act; which, tending to preserve to the 
species the original designations of Providence, spurns at 
the arrogant distinctions of man, and indicates the inde- 
pendent quality of his race." 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 249 

The success of Mr. Sheridan in those speeches which he 
delivered against Warren Hastings was celebrated by 
Byron in the lines which we have placed at the head of 
this sketch. The fame of Mr. Sheridan had now reached 
its meridian splendor. In the prosecution and trial of 
Hastings the loftiest summit of oratorical glory was 
attained. It was the brightest period in the life of 
the orator. He never afterwards rose to such a lofty 
strain of eloquence as that on which he soared when, 
amid the rapturous applause of a thrilled audience, he 
shook the walls of Westminster Hall with tones of 
thunder, — 

" Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised." 

During a parliamentary career of more than thirty 
years, Mr Sheridan usually took part in almost every im- 
portant debate and made many able speeches. One of 
these, delivered in 1803, when England was threatened 
with invasion from France, is said to have been a speech 
of uncommon eloquence, and gained him much applause. 

The record of the last days of this highly gifted orator 
and dramatist is painful. In 1809, his entire property was 
destroyed by the burning of Drury-lane Theater. But it 
was his indolence, intemperance, and extravagance, that 
involved him so deeply in debt, ruin and misery. 

" Wine being no longer of sufficient strength to quicken 
his faculties for conversation or debate, stronger liquors 
were substituted. A person sitting one evening in a 
coffee-house, near St. Stephen's Chapel, saw, to his sur- 
prise, a gentleman with papers before him, after taking 
tea, pour the contents of a decanter of brandy into a 
tumbler, and drink it off' without dilution. He then 
gathered up his papers and went out. Shortly after, the 
.spectator, on entering the gallery of the House of Com- 
mons, heard the brandy-drinker, to his astonishment, 

deliver a long and brilliant speech. It was Mr. Sheridan !" 
3% 



250 ORATORS AND STA1 ESMEK. 

The continued violation of the laws of nature and of 
God will in due time bring its punishment. Thus it was 
with Mr. Sheridan. By intemperate habits disease was 
induced, while the miseries of life were thickening in 
deepest gloom around him. In this suffering condition, 
he was continually harrassed by writs and executions; a 
sheriff's officer finally arrested the dying man, and was 
about to carry him to prison, when his physician interfered 
and prevented his removal. Mr. Sheridan died on the 7th 
of July, 1816, at the age of sixty-four, " a melancholy 
example of brilliant talents sacrificed to a love of display 
and convivial indulgence." 

In contemplating the mournful end of the most brilliant 
orator of the past generation we may adopt the following 
glowing and impressive lines of the poet, and ask: — 

" Was this, then, the fate of that high-gifted man, 
The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall — 
The orator, dramatist, minstrel. — who ran 

Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all. 

Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art, 
From the finest and best of all other men's powers*, — 

Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, 

And could call up its sunshine, or draw down its showers: — 

Whose humor, as gay as the fire -fly's light, 

Play'd round every subject, and shone, as it play'd: — 

Whose wit, in the combat as gentle, as bright, 
Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade •, — 

Whose eloquence, brightening whatever it tried, 

Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave, 
Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, 

As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave !" 

The eloquence of Mr. Sheridan was of the highest 
order. We mention a few of its leading characteristics. 
It was not of that condensed, fiery energy which inspired 
Chatham or Mirabeau; it was of a milder kind, — more 
adapted to please and captivate than to alarm and terrify 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 251 

It was adorned by lofty flights of fancy, classical allusions, 
sallies of wit, humor, irony and ridicule. This is a species 
of oratory in which all popular assemblies take unbounded 
delight. 

The forte of Sheridan lay in the powerful effusions of 
brilliant wit, mingled with humor and fun. With this 
he would often convulse his hearers with laughter. " Good 
sense and wit were the great weapons of his oratory — 
shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an adversary, 
and infinite powers of raillery in exposing them." Ready 
wit is of the greatest advantage to a political orator. It 
not only enables him to give vivacity to his discourse, but 
renders him formidable to his opponent. With the keen 
edge of wit, Sheridan wounded his antagonists the deepest. 
It was a weapon that he often hurled at Pitt and Dundas, 
with complete success. 

Mr. Sheridan possessed a remarkable versatility of 
talents — extensive knowledge of the human heart — great 
powers of fancy — exuberant stores of wit — a deep, clear, 
mellifluous voice, whose tones were perfectly suited to 
invective, descriptive, pathetic, or impassioned declama- 
tion — a singularly piercing eye* — an animated and im- 
pressive countenance — a fiery and dauntless spirit that 
never faltered before an antagonist, — and a manner alto- 
gether striking, admirable and impressive. His gestures 
were performed with grace, dignity and force. His atten- 
tion to theatrical performances doubtless contributed to 
render him a complete master of that which Demosthenes 
declared to be the first, and second, and third requisites in 
eloquence. Much of the power of his oratory lay in his 
admirable delivery. In this way he triumphed over- the 
passions of his auditors, and fascinated them at his pleas- 
ure By a stroke of the pathetic, he could, apparently, 

* " It had the singularity of never winking." — Lord Brougham. 



252 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

without much effort, move his hearers to tears, and by the 
sallies of wit and fun, as easily set them into roars of 
laughter. 

" Of all great speakers of a day fertile in oratory, Sheri- 
dan had the most conspicuous natural gifts. His figure, 
at his first introduction into the House, was manly and 
striking; his countenance singularly expressive, when 
excited in debate; his eye, large, black, and intellectual; 
and his voice one of the richest, most flexible, and most 
sonorous that ever came from human lips. Pitt's was 
powerful, but monotonous; and its measured tone often 
wearied the ear. Fox's was all confusion in the com- 
mencement of his speech; and it required some tension of 
ear throughout to catch his words. Burke's was loud and 
bold, but unmusical; and his contempt for order in his 
sentences, and the abruptness of his grand and swelling 
conceptions, that seemed to roll through his mind like 
billows before a gale, often made the defects of his de- 
livery more striking. But Sheridan, in manner, gesture, 
and voice, had every quality that could give effect to elo- 
quence. Pitt and Fox were listened to with profound 
respect, and in silence, broken only by occasional cheers; 
but from the moment of Sheridan's rising there was an 
expectation of pleasure, which, to his last days, was sel- 
dom disappointed. A low murmur of eagerness ran round 
the House; every word was watched for, and his first 
pleasantry set the whole assemblage in a roar. Sheridan 
was aware of this, and has been heard to say, ' that if a 
jester would never be an orator, yet no speaker could 
expect to be popular in a full house without a jest; and 
that he always made the experiment, good or bad, as a 
laugh gave him the country gentlemen to a man.' " 

Cotemporaries speak in the highest terms of Mr. Sheri- 
dan's intellectual and oratorical powers. The following 
sketch of his perso^ and manner of speaking, by Mr 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 253 

Wraxall, a distinguished member of Parliament, a critic 
and writer of considerable repute, will be read with 
pleasure: 

" He possessed a ductility and versatility of talents, 
which no public man in our time has equaled; and these 
intellectual endowments were sustained by a suavity of 
temper, that seemed to set at defiance all attempts to ruffle 
or discompose it. Playing with his irritable or angry an- 
tagonist, Sheridan exposed him by sallies of wit, or 
attacked him with classic elegance of satire; performing 
this arduous task in the face of a crowded assembly, with- 
out losing for an instant either his presence of mind, his 
facility of expression, or his good humor. He wounded 
deepest indeed, when he smiled; and convulsed his hearers 
with laughter, while the object of his ridicule or animad- 
version was twisting under the lash. Pitt and Dundas, 
who presented the fairest marks for his attack, found by 
experience, that though they might repel, they could not 
confound, and still less could they silence or vanquish 
him. In every attempt that they made by introducing per- 
sonalities, or illiberal reflections on his private life, and 
literary or dramatic occupations, to disconcert him, he 
turned their weapons on themselves. Nor did he, while 
thus chastising his adversary, alter a muscle of his own 
countenance, which, as well as his gestures, seemed to 
participate and display the unalterable serenity of his 
intellectual formation. Rarely did he elevate his voice, 
and never except in subservience to the dictates of his 
judgment, with the view to produce a corresponding effect 
on his audience. Yet he was always heard, generality 
listened to with eagerness, and could obtain a hearing at 
almost any hour. Burke, who wanted Sheridan's nice 
tact, and his amenity of manner, was continually coughed 
down; and on those occasions he lost his temper. Even 
Fox often tired the house by the repetitions which he in- 



254 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

troduced into his speeches. Sheridan never abused their 
patience. Whenever he rose they anticipated a rich 
repast of wit without acrimony, seasoned by allusions and 
citations the most delicate, yet obvious in their applica- 
tion. 

" At this period of his life, when he was not more than 
thirty-three years of age, his countenance and features 
had in them something peculiarly pleasing; indicative at 
once of intellect, humor, and gaiety. All these character- 
istics played about his lips when speaking, and operated 
with inconceivable attraction; — for they anticipated, as it 
were, to the eye, the effect produced by his oratory on the 
ear; thus opening for him a sure way to the heart, or the 
understanding. Even the tones of the voice, which were 
singularly mellifluous, aided the general effect of his 
eloquence; nor was it accompanied by Burke's unpleasant 
Irish accent. Pitt's enunciation was unquestionably more 
imposing, dignified, and sonorous. Fox displayed more 
argument as well as vehemence; Burke possessed more 
fancy and enthusiasm; but Sheridan won his way by a sort 
of fascination. 

" Sheridan combined in himself the talents of Terence 
and of Cicero, the powers of Demosthenes and of Menan- 
der. In the capital of Great Britain, on one and the same 
day, he has spoken for several hours in Westminster Hall, 
during the course of Hastings' trial, to a most brilliant and 
highly-informed audience of both sexes, in a manner so 
impressive, no less than eloquent, as to extort admiration 
even from his greatest enemies. Then repairing to the 
House of Commons he has exhibited specimens of oratory 
before that assembly, equaling those which he had dis- 
played in the morning, when addressing the peers, as one 
of Hastings' accusers: while, on the same evening, ' The 
Duenna ' has been performed at one theater, and the 
i School for Scandal ' at the other, to crowded audiences, 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 255 

who received them with unbounded applause. This is a 
species of double triumph, of the tongue and of the pen, 
to which antiquity, Athenian or Roman, can lay no claim, 
and which has not any parallel in our own history. Lord 
Bolingbroke may perhaps form the nearest approach, as 
he was both an orator and a writer. So was Burke. Fox 
himself, after a life passed in the House of Commons, 
aspired to instruct and to delight by his compositions. 
But not one of the three can sustain a comparison with 
Sheridan, who may be considered, in a comprehensive 
view, as the most highly endowed man whom we have 
beheld in our time."* 

In a fine critique on the character and genius of cele- 
brated orators, a late writer of our own country has the 
following beautiful reflection on Sheridan: 

" Associated with Burke and Fox, in their long career 
of opposition, was the renowned, unhappy Sheridan. If 
not, as he has been called, ' the worthy rival,' he might, 
doubtless, in many respects, have been the rival 

' Of the woncTrous three f 
Whose words were sparks of immortality.' 

" Sheridan had not the classical attainments, nor the 
political and general information of his great contempo- 
raries. He could not generalize with Burke, nor debate 
with Pitt and Fox. But his flow of wit was inexhausti- 
ble. On great occasions, and with sufficient preparation, 
he could put forth the highest powers of oratory. A 
richer tribute was perhaps never paid to eloquence, than 
was universally accorded to him after his great speech on 
the Begum charge in the trial of Hastings; 

4 In whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied, 
The praised, the proud, who made his praise their prlie.' * 

* Posthumous Memoirs of his Own Time, p. 20, 22. 
t Burke, Fox, and Pitt. 



CHAPTER X. 



WILLIAM PITT. 

William Pitt, the younger, was born at Hayes, in Kent, 
on the 28th of May, 1759. He was the second son of Lord 
Chatham. In childhood, Pitt gave indications of a superior 
mind; and the buddings' of that young intellect were 
watched with peculiar pleasure by a father, himself the 
greatest of English statesmen, Who was proud to train up a 
son that would continue his own fame in another generation. 
On account of the weakness of his constitution, young 
Pitt was not sent to a public school, but pursued his studies 
at home, under a private tutor, and under his father's 
superintendence. At fourteen, he was sent to the Univer- 
sity of Cambridge. Even then — so great was his proficiency 
ir knowledge, — he was well versed in the rudiments of 
English literature, and familiarly acquainted with the 
Greek and Roman classics. According to his tutor, Dr. 
Prettyman, he seldom met with difficulty in Latin authors, 
and it was no uncommon thing for him to translate into 
English six or eight pages of Thucydides which he had not 
previously seen, with only two or three mistakes, or even 
without any. Before he was twenty, it is said, that there 
was scarcely a Greek or Latin classical writer of any emi- 
nence, the whole of whose works Mr. Pitt had not read in 
the original 

In anticipation of entering on a political career, one 
great, leading idea, — that of becoming an accomplished 
and distinguished orator in Parliament, — seems to have 



WILLIAM PITT. 257 

absorbed the mind of young Pitt. When his father was 
elevated to the peerage, the youth, at that time in his 
seventh year, is said to have exclaimed, " Then must I take 
his place in the House of Commons !" In the hope of being 
one day numbered among the most eminent orators of the 
age — an age of oratorical greatness and glory — the youth- 
ful Pitt pursued with indefatigable perseverance the study 
of the ancient classics, the mathematics, and the logic of 
Aristotle. These studies seem to have engaged his closest 
attention for several years. Such was the foundation on 
which he erected the superstructure of his persuasive 
eloquence. Like his illustrious father, he was formed 
on the classic model. He was, perhaps, as intimately 
acquainted with the elegant literary productions of an- 
tiquity as his celebrated rival, Mr. Fox. The classics 
were Mr. Pitt's daily companions. He was in the habit of 
spending hours on the most beautiful expressions of the 
ancient orators and historians, and of copying the most 
striking passages in their works. The practice of render- 
ing the Greek and Roman classics into English, and of 
committing to memory the most eloquent passages which 
occur in reading, is the best exercise in which the young 
student can engage. It imparts a command of language, 
aids him in acquiring a forcible style, affords the best men- 
tal discipline, strengthens his memory, cultivates his taste, 
invigorates his intellect, and gives him a relish for the 
sublime and beautiful in writing. Such a course has been 
pursued by all who have attained the greatest eminence in 
public speaking. Let the young orator adopt this plan, 
and he will improve. Let him not only read the classics 
" by day and study them by night," but commit to memory 
those eloquent passages which we have introduced in this 
volume — those passages of Demosthenian fire 

Mr. Pitt took great delight in the ancient and modern 

poets. Their finest passages he committed to jaemory. 
33 



259 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Like Erskine, he was a warm admirer of Shakspeare, and 
knew by heart a large portion of his writings. In English 
literature, Mr. Pitt's knowledge was extensive. He was 
familiar with the best historians. Middleton's Life of 
Cicero, Boiin^broke's political works, and Barrow's Ser- 
mons, were hit favorite models of style. 

Having studied law, Mr. Pitt was called to the bar in 
1780, and the next year, at the age of twenty-two, took his 
seat in Parliament. He immediately united with Burke, 
Fox and other distinguished members of the House, in 
opposing Lord North's administration, which was now verg- 
ing towards its downfall. His maiden speech, which was 
wholly unpremeditated, was delivered about a month after 
he became a member of Parliament, when one of Mr. 
Burke's bills on economical reform was under debate. 
Such remarkable and astonishing powers of eloquence did 
the young speaker manifest in his first oratorical effort, 
that all eyes were turned towards him in wonder and admi- 
ration, and a burst of applause broke from every quarter 
of the House. After he had finished his speech, Burke took 
him by the hand, declaring that he was " not merely a chip 
of the old block, but the old block itself." Fox had him 
enrolled among the elite of the Whigs, and so great was 
his admiration of the youth's oratory, that, when some one 
was remarking, at the end of the session, " Pitt promises 
to be one of the first speakers that was ever heard in Par- 
liament," he instantly replied, " He is so already." 

" Thus, at the age of twenty-two, when most men are 
yet in the rudiments of political science, and just com- 
mencing their first essays in oratory, he placed himself at 
a single bound in the foremost rank of English statesmen 
and orators, at the proudest era of English eloquence." 

One of the most praiseworthy efforts of Mr. Pitt, about 
this time (November, 1781), was his strenuous exertion to 
terminate the American war. In a speech on the subject, 



WILLIAM PITT. 259 

he denounced it in the following jold, eloquent terms, 
which may serve as a fair specimen of his style of compo- 
sition. 

" Gentlemen have passed the highest eulogiums on the 
American war. Its justice has been defended in the most 
fervent manner. A noble lord, in the heat of his zeal, has 
called it a holy war. For my part, although the honorable 
gentleman who made this motion, and some other gentle- 
men, have been, more than once, in the course of the 
debate, severely reprehended for calling it a wicked and 
accursed war, I am persuaded, and would affirm, that it was 
a most accursed, wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, 
unjust and diabolical war! It was conceived in injustice; 
it was nurtured and brought forth in folly; its footsteps 
were marked with blood, slaughter, persecution and devas- 
tation; — in truth, everything which went to constitute 
moral depravity and human terpitude were to be found in 
it. It was pregnant with misery of every kind. 

" The mischief, however, recoiled on the unhappy people 
of this country, who were made the instruments by which 
the wicked purposes of the authors of the war were effect- 
ed. The Nation was drained of its best blood, and of its 
vital resources of men and money. The expense of the 
war was enormous, — much beyond any former experience* 
And yet, what has the British nation received in return? 
Nothing but a series of ineffective victories, or severe 
defeats; — victories celebrated only by a temporary triumph 
over our brethren, whom we would trample down and des- 
troy; victories, which filled the land with mourning for 
the loss of dear and valued relatives, slain in the impious 
cause of enforcing unconditional submission, or with nar- 
ratives of the glorious exertions of men struggling in the 
holy cause of liberty, though struggling in the absence of 
all the facilities and advantages which are in general 
deemed th? necessary concomitants of victory and success. 



260 ORATORS AND STaFESMEN. 

Where was the Englishman, who, on reading the narratives 
of those bloody and well-fought contests, could refrain 
from lamenting the loss of so much British blood spilt in 
such a cause; or from weeping, on whatever side victory 
might be declared?" 

At the termination of the Rockingham Administration, 
in 1782, Mr. Pitt was made Chancellor of the Exchequer 
under Lord Shelburne. Mr.- Fox, who considered himself 
slighted, instantly resigned his office as Secretary of State, 
and united with Lord North in opposing the Shelburne 
Administration. The new ministers were voted down, and 
a motion was made, strongly censuring them for the terms 
on which they had made peace. After a long debate, the 
vote of censure was finally passed, whereupon the Earl of 
Shelburne resigned. 

Next followed the coalition ministry (April 2d, 1783), 
which was dismissed in a few months. William Pitt then 
came in as Prime Minister, at the age of twenty-four (Dec. 
22d, 1783). 

Mr, Fox, who still had the majority on his side, now 
labored hard to put down the young minister. But it was 
in vain. Mr. Pitt's popularity increased every day, until 
he was firmly established in his new office as Premier. He 
stood at the helm in the administration of the British gov- 
ernment for nearly seventeen years, during one of the most 
eventful and stormy periods in English history. With such 
consummate wisdom and ability did he manage the affairs 
of the nation in those perilous times, that he has been 
justly styled, th v e " pilot that weathered the storm." 

With respect to the former part of his administration. 
Gibbon, the historian, speaks in the highest terms of com- 
mendation; and says, that " in all his researches in an- 
cient and "modern history, he had nowhere met with a 
parallel — with one who at so early a period of life had so 
important a trust reposed in him, which he had discharged 



WILLIAM PITT. 261 

with so much credit to himself and advantage to the 
kingdom." And Mr. Gifford, in his life of the orator pays 
a beautiful tribute to his character as a statesman — as one 
of the ablest that England had produced. "As a statesman, 
the resources, as well as the firmness of Mr. Pitt's mind, 
have been amply demonstrated by the measures which he 
adopted, to meet the various and unforeseen difficulties with 
which the British nation was surrounded during the period 
of his administration. Abroad, he had to struggle with 
the most gigantic power, which ever raised itself in oppo- 
sition to the greatness of his country; while, at home, he 
had to support at the same time commercial and national 
credit, to allay the turbulent spirit of mutiny, to extin- 
guish the raging flames of rebellion, to provide even for 
the importunate calls of famine. The energies of his mind 
were most eminently exerted upon these important occa- 
sions; and, in spite of internal distractions, he carried the 
power of the nation to a greater height than it had ever 
attained at any former period." 

During his administration, several important measures, 
affecting the peace, happiness and prosperity of Great 
Britain, India, and Africa were brought forward or sustain- 
ed by Mr. Pitt. In most of these measures he showed him- 
self one of the ablest and most sagacious statesmen that 
ever controlled the affairs of England. Our limited space 
does not permit us to follow Mr. Pitt through his long 
career. We shall mention but one or two of his best par- 
liamentary efforts. The act which reflects the highest hon- 
or on his character as a philanthropist, — as an opponent of 
oppression, — as the friend of universal liberty, is his uniting 
with Mr. Wilberforce in advocating the immediate aboli 
tion of the slave trade, in which England was at that time 
engaged. His noble exertions in behalf of the oppressed 
sons cf Africa entitle him to the lasting regard of Christ- 
endom. The African slave trade roused all the sympathies 



262 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of Mr. Pitt, and called forth the sublime* t effort of his 
eloquence. 

Early in 1792, hundreds of petitions against the slave 
trade were presented to Parliament; and on the 2d of April, 
Mr. Wilberforce made a motion for its immediate suppres- 
sion, which he supported by a speech of great compass and 
power. In reply to Addington and Dundas, who opposed 
Wilberforce's plan of immediate abolition, Mr. Pitt rose 
and delivered the most eloquent speech on this subject, 
ever pronounced in the House of Commons. It is the finest 
of all his parliamentary efforts, combining " with the most 
impassioned declamation, the deepest pathos, the most live- 
ly imagination, and the closest reasoning." 

Mr. Wilberforce, alluding to this speech in his journal, 
writes, " Windham, who has no love for Pitt, tells me that 
Fox and Grey, with whom he walked home from this debate, 
agreed in thinking Pitt's speech one of the most extra- 
ordinary displays of eloquence they had ever heard. For 
the last twenty minutes he really seemed to be inspired;" 
and Lord Brougham says, " We have it from a friend of 
his own, who sat beside him on this memorable occasion, 
that its effects on Mr. Fox were manifest during the whole 
period of the delivery, while Mr. Sheridan expressed his 
feelings in the most hearty and even passionate terms; 
and we have it from Mr. Windham that he walked home 
lost in amazement at the compass, till then unknown to 
him, of human eloquence." 

In tones of the loftiest eloquence he exposed the evils 
of that guilty traffic which had long inflicted misery upon 
Africa and cast disgrace on England. 

" The last four paragraphs of this speech, together with 
three others at the opening of the third head, ' But now, 
sir, I come to Africa,' are specimens of that lofty declama- 
tion w T ith which Mr. Pitt so often raised and delighted the 
feelings of the House. His theme in such cases was 



WILLIAM PITT. 263 

usually his country — what she had been, what she might 
be, what she ought to accomplish. His amplifications are 
often in the best manner of Cicero adapted to modern 
times." 

We introduce all these passages at length: " But now, 
sir, I come to Africa. That is the ground on which I rest, 
and here it is that I say my right honorable friends do not 
carry their principles to their full extent. Why ought the 
slave trade to be abolished? Because it is incurable injus- 
tice! How much stronger, then, is the argument for im- 
mediate than gradual abolition! By allowing it to con- 
tinue even for one hour, do not my right honorable friends 
weaken — do not they desert, their own argument of its 
injustice? If on the ground of injustice it ought to be 
abolished at last, why ought it not now? Why is injustice 
to be suffered to remain for a single hour? From what I 
hear without doors, it is evident that there is a general 
conviction entertained of its being far from just, and from 
that very conviction of its injustice some men have been 
led, I fear, to the supposition that the slave trade never 
could have been permitted to begin, but from some strong 
and irresistible necessity; a necessity, however, which, if 
it was fancied to exist at first, I have shown can not be 
thought by any man whatever to exist at present. This 
plea of necessity, thus presumed, and presumed, as I sus- 
pect, from the circumstance of injustice itself, has caused 
a sort of acquiescence in the continuance of this evil. 
Men have been led to place it in the rank of those neces- 
sary evils which are supposed to be the lot of human 
creatures, and to be permitted to fall upon some countries 
or individuals, rather than upon others, by that Being 
whose ways are inscrutable to us, and whose dispensations, 
it is conceived, we ought not to look into. The origin of 
evil is, indeed, a subject beyond the reach of the human 
understanding; and the permission of it by the Supreme 



264 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Being, is a subject into which it belongs not to us to 
inquire. But where the evil in question is a moral evil 
which a man can scrutinize, and where that moral evil 
has its origin with ourselves, let us not imagine that we 
can clear our consciences by this general, not to say irre- 
ligious and impious way of laying aside the question. If 
we reflect at all on this subject we must see that every 
necessary evil supposes that some other and greater evil 
w r ould be incurred were it removed. I therefore desire to 
ask, what can be that greater evil which can be stated to 
overbalance the one in question? I know of no evil that 
ever has existed, nor can imagine any evil to exist, worse 
than the tearing of eighty thousand persons annually 
from their native land, by a combination of the most 
civilized nations in the most enlightened quarter of the 
globe; but more especially by that nation which calls her- 
self the most free and the most happy of them all. Even 
if these miserable beings were proved guilty of every 
jrime before you take them off (of which however not a 
single proof is adduced), ought wc to take upon ourselves 
the office of executioners? And even if we condescend 
so far, still can we be justified in taking them, unless we 
have clear proof that they are criminals? 

"But if we go much farther; if we ourselves tempt 
them to sell their fellow creatures to us, we may rest as- 
sured that they will take care to provide by every method, 
by kidnapping, by village-breaking, by unjust wars, by 
iniquitous condemnations, by rendering Africa a scene of 
bloodshed and misery, a supply of victims increasing in 
proportion to our demand. Can we, then, hesitate in 
deciding whether the wars in Africa are their wars or 
ours? It was our arms in the River Cameroon, put into 
the hands of the trader, that furnished him with the 
means of pushing his trade; and I have no more doubt 
that they are British arms, put into the hands of Africans, 



WILLIAM PITT. 265 

which promote universal war and desolation, than I can 
doubt their having done so in that individual instance. 

" I have shown how great is the enormity of this evil, 
even on the supposition that we take only convicts and 
prisoners of war. But take the subject in the other way; 
take it on the grounds stated by the right honorable gen- 
tleman over the way; and how does it stand? Think of 
eighty thousand persons carried away out of their country, 
by we know not what means; for crimes imputed; for light 
or inconsiderable faults; for debt, perhaps; for the crime 
of witchcraft; or a thousand other weak and scandalous 
pretexts! Besides all the fraud and kidnapping, the vil- 
lainies and perfidy, by which the slave trade is supplied. 
Reflect on these eighty thousand persons thus annually 
taken oft' ! There is something in the horror of it, that 
surpasses all the bounds of imagination. Admitting that 
there exists in Africa something like to courts of justice; 
yet what an office of humiliation and meanness is it in 
us, to take upon ourselves to carry into execution the par- 
: al, the cruel, iniquitous sentences of such courts, as if 
we also were strangers to all religion, and to the first 
principles of justice." 

" Thus, sir, has the perversion of British commerce 
carried misery instead of happiness to one whole quarter 
of the globe. False to the very principles of trade, mis- 
guided in our policy, and unmindful of our duty, what 
astonishing — I had almost said, what irreparable mischief, 
have we brought upon that continent! How shall we hope 
to obtain, if it be possible, forgiveness from Heaven for 
those enormous evils we have committed, if we refuse to 
make use of those means which the mercy of Providence 
hath still reserved to us, for wiping away the guilt and 
shame with which we are now covered. If we refuse even 
this degree of compensation; if, knowing the miseries we 
have caused, we refuse even now to put a stop to them, 



266 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

how greatly aggravated will be the guilt of Great Britain! 
and what a blot will these transactions forever be in the 
history of this country! Shall we, then, delay to repair 
these injuries, and to begin rendering justice to Africa? 
Shall we not count the days and hours that are suffered to 
intervene, and to delay the accomplishment of such a 
work? Reilect what an immense object is before you; 
what an object for a nation to have in view, and to have a 
prospect, under the favor of Providence, of being now 
permitted to attain! I think the House will agree with 
me in cherishing the ardent wish to enter without delay 
upon the measures necessary for these great ends; and I 
am sure that the immediate abolition of the slave trade is 
the first, the principal, the most indispensable act of policy, 
of duty, and of justice, that the Legislature of this coun- 
try has to take, if it is indeed their wish to secure those 
important objects to which I have alluded, and which we 
are bound to pursue by the most solemn obligations." 

" Having now detained the House so long, all that I 
will further add shall be on that important subject, the 
civilization of Africa, which I have already shown that I 
consider as the leading feature in this question. Grieved 
am I to think that there should be a single person in this 
country, much more that there should be a single member 
in the British Parliament, who can look on the present 
dark, uncultivated, and uncivilized state of that continent 
as a ground for continuing the slave trade; as a ground 
not only for refusing to attempt the improvement of 
Africa, but even for hindering and intercepting every ray 
of light which might otherwise break in upon her, as a 
ground for refusing to her the common chance and the 
common means with which other nations have been 
blessed, of emerging from their native barbarism." 

",We, sir, have long since emerged from barbarism. We 
have almost forgotten that we were once barbarians, 



WILLIAM PITT. 267 

We are now raised to a situation which exhibits a striking 
contrast to every circumstance by which a Roman might 
have characterized us, and by which we now characterize 
Africa. There is, indeed, one thing wanting to complete 
the contrast, and to clear us altogether from the imputa- 
tion of acting even to this hour as barbarians; for we con- 
tinue to this hour a barbarous traffic in slaves; we con- 
tinue it even yet, in spite of all our great and undeniable 
pretensions to civilization. We were once as obscure 
among the nations of the earth, as savage in our manners, 
as debased in our morals, as degraded in our understand- 
ings, as these unhappy Africans are at present. But in the 
lapse of a long series of years, by a progression slow, and 
for a time almost imperceptible, we have become rich in 
a variety of acquirements, favored above measure in the 
gifts of Providence, unrivaled in commerce, pre-eminent 
in arts, foremost in the pursuits of philosophy and science, 
and established in all the blessings of civil society. We 
are in the possession of peace, of happiness, and of liberty. 
We are under the guidance of a mild and beneficent reli- 
gion; and we are protected by impartial laws, and the 
purest administration of justice. We are living under a 
system of government which our own happy experience 
leads us to pronounce the best and wisest which has ever 
yet been framed; a system which has become the admira- 
tion of the world. From all these blessings we must for- 
ever have been shut out, had there been any truth in those 
principles which some gentlemen have not hesitated to lay 
down as applicable to the case of Africa. Had those prin- 
ciples been true, we ourselves had languished to this hour 
in that miserable state of ignorance, brutality, and degra- 
dation, in which history proves our ancestry to have been 
immersed. Had other nations adopted these principles in 
their conduct towards us; had other nations applied to 
Great Britain the reasoning which some of the senators 



268 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of tnis very island now apply to Africa; ages might have 
passed without our emerging from barbarism; and we 
who are enjoying the blessings of British civilization, of 
British laws, and British liberty, might, at this hour, have 
been little superior, either in morals, in knowledge, or 
refinement, to the rude inhabitants of the coast of 
Guinea. 

" If, then, we feel that this perpetual confinement in the 
fetters of brutal ignorance would have been the greatest 
calamity which could have befallen us; if we view with 
gratitude and exultation the contrast between the peculiar 
blessings we enjoy, and the wretchedness of the ancient 
inhabitants of Britain; if we shudder to think of the 
misery which would still have overwhelmed us had Great 
Britain continued to the present time to be a mart for 
slaves to the more civilized nations of the world, through 
some cruel policy of theirs, God forbid that we should any 
longer subject Africa to the same dreadful scourge, and 
preclude the light of knowledge, which has reached every 
other quarter of the globe, from having access to her 
coasts. 

" I trust we shall no longer continue this commerce, to 
the destruction of every improvement on that wide conti- 
nent; and shall not consider ourselves as conferring too 
great a boon, in restoring its inhabitants to the rank of 
human beings. I trust we shall not think ourselves too 
liberal, if, by abolishing the slave trade, we give them the 
same common chance of civilization with other parts of 
the world, and that we shall now allow to Africa the 
opportunity, the hope, the prospect of attaining to the 
same blessings which we ourselves, through the favorable 
dispensations of Divine Providence, have been permitted, 
at a much more early period, to enjoy. If we listen to 
the voice of reason and duty, and pursue this night the 
line of conduct which they prescribe, some of us may 



WILLIAM PITT. 269 

live to see a reverse of that picture from which we now 
turn our eyes with shame and regret. We may live to 
behold the natives of Africa engaged in the calm occu- 
pations of industry, in the pursuits of a just and legiti- 
mate commerce. We may behold the beams of science 
and philosophy breaking in upon their land, which at 
some happy period in still later times may blaze with full 
luster; and joining their influence to that of pure religion, 
may illuminate and invigorate the most distant extremities 
of that immense continent. Then may we hope that 
even Africa though last of all the quarters of the globe, 
shall enjoy at length, in the evening of her days, those 
blessings which have descended so plentifully upon us in 
a much earlier period of the world. Then, also, will 
Europe, participating in her improvement and prosperity, 
receive an ample recompense for the tardy kindness (if 
kindness it can be called) of no longer hindering that 
continent from extricating herself out of the darkness 
which, in other more fortunate regions, has been so much 
more speedily dispelled. 

Nos que ubi primus equis oriens afflavit anhelis; 



Iliic sera rubens accendit lumina vesper. 

"Then, sir, may be applied to Africa those words, 
originally used, indeed, with a different view: 

His demum exactis 

Devenere locos laetos, et amcena vireta 
Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas ; 
Largior hie campos iEther et lumine vestit. 
Purpureo:* 

" It is in this view, sir — it is an atonement for our long 

* " These words introduce Virgil's description of the Elysi^n fields in his 
region of departed spirits. — (JEncid, book vi., lines 637-41): 

These rites performed, they reach those happy fields, 
Gardens, and groves, and seats of living joy, 
Where the pure ether spreads with wider sway, 
And throws a purple light o'er all the plains." 



270 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and cruel injustice toward Africa, that the measure pro- 
posed by my honorable friend most forcibly recommends 
itself to my mind. The great and happy change to be 
expected in the state of her inhabitants, is, of all the 
various and important benefits of the abolition, in my esti- 
mation, incomparably the most extensive and important. 

" I shall vote, sir, against the adjournment; and I shall 
also oppose to the utmost every proposition which in any 
way may tend either to prevent, or even to postpone for 
an hour, the total abolition of the slave trade: a measure 
which, on all the various grounds which I have stated, we 
are bound, by the most pressing and indispensable duty, 
to adopt." 

The impression made by this speech was great; but not- 
withstanding the splendor of Mr. Pitt's eloquence, and the 
force of his masterly arguments for the immediate extinc- 
tion of the slave trade, Mr. Dundas ? s plan of a gradual 
abolition was triumphant in the House. But the subject 
of immediate abolition did not rest here. Session after 
session, it w r as brought up by Mr. Wilberforce,* and he 

* William Wilberforce, was born at Hull, England, on the 24th of August, 
1759. Having finished his college course at Cambridge, he entered Parliament, 
at tne age of twenty-one, as an opponent of the American war, and of Lord 
North's administration. Wilberforce was an intimate friend of Pitt, and 
generally a warm supporter of his administration. But the one grand object 
of his political life, which called forth all the resources of his mind, was the 
abolition of the African slave trade. He delivered several speeches of great 
compass, power and eloquence, on this subject. One of the most eloquent of 
these, delivered on the 12th of May, 1789, produced an electric effect. Mr. 
Burke, referring to this effort said : ' k The principles were so well laid down, and 
supported with so much force and order, that it equaled any thing that he had 
heard in modern times, and was not perhaps to be surpassed in the remains of 
Grecian eloquence." 

The oratorical character of Mr. Wilberforce is drawn by a master-hand. 
Says Lord Brougham: " His eloquence was of the highest order. It was per- 
suasive and pathetic in an eminent degree; but it was occasionally bold and 
impassioned, animated with the inspiration which deep feeling alone can 



WILLIAM PITT. 271 

finally succeeded in accomplishing this great object, for 
which he had labored nearly twenty years. 

In 1806, a resolution was passed declaring " that the 
slave trade was inconsistent with justice, humanity, and 
sound policy, and that measures ought to be taken for its 
immediate abolition," and on the 6th of February, 1807, 
a bill abolishing the traffic was passed and received the 
royal assent. The 1st of January, 1808 was appointed for 
the termination of the African slave trade. It was a 
joyful day for Mr. Wilberforce, but the eyes of Mr. Pitt 
were not permitted to behold it; they were, at this time, 
closed in death; and that tongue, once so eloquent, was 
forever mute in the grave 

Another of the greatest displays of Mr. Pitt's oratory 
was on the subject of the French Revolution. His great 
speech on his refusal to negotiate with Bonaparte, deliv- 
ered on the 3d of February, 1800, was, perhaps, the most 

breathe into spoken thought, chastened by a pure taste, varied by extensive 
information, enriched by classical allusion, sometimes elevated by the more 
sublime topies of holy writ — the thoughts and the spirit. 
' That touch'd Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire.' 

" Few passages can be cited in the oratory of modern times of a more electrical 
effect than the singularly felicitous and striking allusion to Mr. Pitt's resisting 
the torrent of Jacobin principles: ' He stood between the living and the dead, 
and the plague was stayed.' The singular kindness, the extreme gentleness 
of his disposition, wholly free from gall, from vanity, or any selfish feeling, 
kept him from indulging in any of the vituperative branches of rhetoric, but 
a memorable instance showed that it was any thing rather than the want of 
power which held him off from the use of the weapons so often in almost all 
other men's hands. When a well-known popular member thought fit to desig- 
nate him repeatedly, and very irregularly, as the ' Honorable and religious 
gentleman ," not because he was ashamed of the Cross he gloried in, but 
because he felt indignant at any one in the British senate deeming piety a 
matter of imputation, he poured out a strain of sarcasm which none who heard 
it can forget. A common friend of the parties having remarked to Sir Samuel 
Romilly, beside whom he sat, that this greatly outmatched Pitt himself, the 
great mastei of sarcasm, the reply of that great man and just observer, was 



272 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

elaborate of all his orations. " It is the most elaborate 
of all his efforts; and though worse reported than the 
other two, so far as language is concerned (Mr. Canning, 
indeed, says that Mr. Pitt suffered more in this respect 
than any orator of his day), it can hardly be too much 
admired for its broad and luminous statements, the close- 
ness of its reasonings, and the fervor of its appeals." 

It was to this speech that Mr. Fox replied in such tor- 
rents of unbroken eloquence. Mr. Pitt was, notwithstand- 
ing, successful. The address approving of his conduct was 
passed by a majority of 265 to 64. 

In 1801, Mr. Pitt, in consequence of a difference with 
the King, resigned his office as Prime Minister, after hold- 
ing it between sixteen and seventeen years. Mr. Adding- 
ton succeeded him as Minister, and concluded the peace 
of Amiens, in 1802. 

On the renewal of the war in 1803, Mr. Pitt came for- 
ward with all the power of his oratory for its vigorous 
prosecution, while Mr. Fox strongly opposed it. The 
speech of Pitt on this subject was among the last and most 

worthy to be remarked, ' Yes,' said he, ' it is the most striking thing I almost 
ever heard ; but I look upon it as a more singular proof of Wilberforce's virtue 
than of his genuis, for who but he ever was possessed of such a formidable 
weapon, and never used it?' 

" Against all these accomplishments of a finished orator there was little to 
set on the other side. A feeble constitution, which made him say, all his 
life, that he never was either well or ill ; a voice sweetly musical beyond that 
of most men, and of great compass also, but sometimes degenerating into a 
whine-, a figure exceedingly undignified and ungraceful, though the features of 
the face were singularly expressive; and a want of condensation, in the latter 
years of his life, especially, lapsing into digression, and ill-calculated for a 
very business-like audience like the House of Commons — these may be noted 
as the only drawbacks which kept him out of the very first place among the 
first speakers of his age, whom, in pathos, and also in graceful and easy and 
perfectly elegant diction, as well as harmonious periods, he unquestionably 
excelled/' Mr. Wilberforce died on the 29th of July, 1S33. He was buried 
within a few yards of his illustrious contemporaries, Pitt, Fox and Canning. 



WILLIAM PITT. 273 

splendid of his oratorical efforts. " His speech on this 
occasion (which, through an accident in the gallery, was 
never reported) is said by Lord Brougham to have 'ex- 
celled all his other performances in vehement and spirit- 
stirring declamation; and this may be the more easily 
believed wlien we know that Mr. Fox, in his reply, said, 
The orators of antiquity would have admired, probably 
would have envied it. The last half hour is described as 
having been one unbroken torrent of the most majestic 
declamation.' " 

In 1804, Mr. Pitt was again made Prime Minister,, and 
held the office till his death. He soon formed his last 
great coalition against Bonaparte, but the famous battle of 
Austerlitz, which was fought on the 2d of December, 1805, 
dashed his hopes to the ground. It was now apparent 
that the termination of his earthly career was rapidly 
approaching. With a broken constitution, crushed with 
care and anxiety he was already standing on the verge of 
the grave. He died on the 23d of January, 1806, in the 
forty-seventh year of his age. He was buried with high 
honors in Westminster Abbey, near his illustrious father, 
and a monument was erected to his memory. 

" As a parliamentary orator, Mr. Pitt's powers were 
various. In statement he was perspicuous, in declamation 
animated. If he had to explain a financial account he was 
clear and accurate. If he wanted to rouse a just indig- 
nation, for the wrongs of the country, he was rapid, ve- 
hement, glowing, and impassioned. And whether his dis- 
course was argumentative or declamatory, it always 
displayed a happy choice of expression, and a fluency of 
diction, which could not fail to delight his hearers. So 
singularly select, felicitous, and appropriate was his lan- 
guage, that, it has often been remarked, a word of his 
speech could scarcely be changed without prejudice to its 

harmony, vigor, or effect. He seldom was satisfied with 
35 



274 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

standing on the defensive in debate; but was proud to 
contrast his own actions with the avowed intentions of 
his opponents. These intentions, too, he often exposed 
with the most pointed sarcasm; a weapon which, perhaps, 
no speaker wielded with more dexterity and force than 
himself. 

" Of his eloquence, it may be observed generally, that 
it combined the eloquence of Tully with the energy of 
Demosthenes. It was spontaneous; always great, it shone 
with peculiar, with unequaled splendor, in a reply, which 
precluded the possibility of previous study; while it 
fascinated the imagination by the brilliancy of language, 
it convinced the judgment by the force of argument, — 
like an impetuous torrent, it bore down all resistance; 
extorting the admiration even of those who most severely 
felt its strength, and who most earnestly deprecated its 
effect. It is unnecessary, and might be presumptuous 
to enter more minutely into the character of Mr. Pitt's 
eloquence; — there are many living witnesses of its power — 
it will be admired as long as it shall be remembered."* 

Brougham appropriately remarks on the style of Pitt's 
eloquence: " If from the statesman we turn to the orator, 
the contrast is indeed marvelous. He is to be placed, 
without any doubt, in the highest class. With a sparing 
use of ornament, hardly indulging more in figures, or 
even in figurative expression, than the most severe exam- 
ples of ancient chasteness allowed — with little variety of 
style, hardly any of the graces of manner — he no sooner 
rose than he carried away every hearer, and kept the 
attention fixed and unflagging till it pleased him to let it 
go; and then 

' So charming left his voice, that we, awhile, 
Still thought him speaking, still stood fixed to hear.' 

* See Giffor^s History of the Political Life of Hon. William Pitt. 



WILLIAM PITT. 275 

" This magical effect was produced by his unbroken flow, 
which never for a moment left the hearer in pain or doubt, 
and yet was not the mean fluency of mere relaxation, 
requiring no effort of the speaker, but imposing on the 
listener a heavy task; by his lucid arrangement, which 
made all parts of the most complicated subject quit their 
entanglement, and fall each into its place; by the clear- 
ness of his statements, which presented at once a picture 
to the mind; by the forcible appeals to strict reason and 
strong feeling, which formed the great staple of the dis- 
course; by the majesty of the diction; by the depth and 
fullness of the most sonorous voice, and the unbending 
dignity of the manner, which ever reminded us that we 
were in the presence of more than an advocate or debater, 
that there stood before us a ruler of the people. Such 
were the effects invariably of this singular eloquence; and 
they were as certainly produced on ordinary occasions, as 
in those grander displays when he rose to the height of 
some great argument; or indulged in vehement invective 
against some individual, and variegated his speech with 
that sarcasm of which he was so great, and indeed so little 
sparing a master; although even here all was uniform and 
consistent; nor did any thing, in any mood of mind, ever 
drop from him that was unsuited to the majestic frame of 
the whole, or could disturb the serenity of the full and 
copious flood that rolled along." 

The character of Mr. Pitt is delineated in an able man- 
ner by his political associate and admirer, the celebrated 
Mr. Canning. His sketch is particularly interesting as 
coming from a classical writer and a felicitous speaker: 

" The character of this illustrious statesman early passed 
its ordeal. Scarcely had he attained the age at which 
reflection commences, when Europe with astonishment 
beheld him filling the first place in the councils of his 
country, and managing the vast mass of its concerns with 



276 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

all the vigor and steadiness of the most matured wisdom 
Dignity — strength — discretion — these were among the 
masterly qualities of his mind at its first dawn. He had 
been nurtured a statesman, and his knowledge was of that 
kind which always lay ready for practical application. 
Not dealing in the subtilties of abstract politics, but 
moving in the slow, steady procession of reason, his con- 
ceptions were reflective, and his views correct. Habitu- 
ally attentive to the concerns of government, he spared no 
pains to acquaint himself with whatever was connected, 
however minutely, with its prosperity. He was devoted 
to the state. Its interests engrossed all his study and 
engaged all his care. It w r as the element alone in which 
he seemed to live and move. He allowed himself but 
little recreation from his labors. His mind was always on 
its station, and its activity was unremitted. 

" He did not hastily adopt a measure, nor hastily aban- 
don it. The plan struck out by him for the preservation 
of Europe was the result of prophetic wisdom and pro- 
found policy. But, though defeated in many respects by 
the selfish ambition and short-sighted imbecility of foreign 
powers — whose rulers were too venal or too weak to fol- 
low the flight of that mind which would have taught 
them to outwing the storm — the policy involved in it 
has still a secret operation on the conduct of surrounding 
states. His plans were full of energy, and the principles 
w T hich inspired them looked beyond the consequences of 
the hour. 

" He knew nothing of that timid and wavering cast cf 
mind which dares not abide by its ow r n decision. He 
never suffered popular prejudice or party clamor to turn 
him aside from any measure which his deliberate judg- 
ment had adopted. He had a proud reliance on himself, 
and it w T as justified. Like the sturdy warrior leaning on 



WILLIAM PITT. 277 

his own battle-axe, conscious where his strengh lay, he did 
not readily look beyond it. 

" As a debater in the House of Commons, his speeches 
were logical and argumentative. If they did not often 
abound in the graces of metaphor, or sparkle with the 
brilliancy of wit, they were always animated, elegant and 
classical. The strength of his oratory w 7 as intrinsic; it 
presented the rich and abundant resource of a clear dis- 
cernment and a correct taste. His speeches are stamped 
with inimitable marks of originality. When replying to 
his opponents, his readiness was not more conspicuous 
than his energy. He was always prompt and always dig- 
nified. He could sometimes have recourse to the sportive- 
ness of irony, but he did not often seek any other aid than 
was to be derived from an arranged and extensive know- 
ledge of his subject. This qualified him fully to discuss 
the arguments of others, and forcibly to defend his own. 
Thus armed, it was rarely in the power of his adversaries, 
mighty as they were, to beat him from the field. His elo- 
quence, occasionally rapid, electric, and vehement, was 
always chaste, winning, and persuasive — not awing into 
acquiescence, but arguing into conviction. His under- 
standing was bold and comprehensive. Nothing seemed 
too remote for its reach or too large for its grasp. 

rt Unallured by dissipation and unswayed by pleasure, 
he never sacrificed the national pleasure to the one, or 
the national interest to the other. To his unswerving 
integrity the most authentic of all testimony is to be found 
in that unbounded public confidence which followed him 
throughout the whole of his political career. 

" Absorbed as he was in the pursuits of public life, he 
did not neglect to prepare himself in silence for that 
higher destination, which is at once the incentive and 
and reward of human virtue. His talents, superior and 



278 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

splendid as they were, never made him forgetful of that 
Eternal Wisdom from which they emanated. The faith 
and fortitude of his last moments were affecting and ex- 
emplary." 

Fox and Pitt have often been compared as orators. In 
an elaborate article on Eloquence in the Biblical Reposi- 
tory, Mr. Cleaveland, after giving a description of Burke's 
oratory, has the following excellent observations on the 
style of Fox and Pitt: 

" Mr. Burke may be said to have belonged to a Trium- 
virate of eloquence — the greatest, unqestionably, that 
ever divided among them the empire of mind. Mr. Fox, 
although a much younger man, entered on his Parliament- 
ary career, nearly at the same time with Burke. For a 
while he was willing to rank as his disciple and follower; 
but in a few years his growing abilities — his great skill in 
debate — the charm of his disposition and manners — and 
his superior political connections, gave him the ascend- 
ency, and made him the acknowledged leader of the oppo- 
sition ranks. When some twelve years later the youthful 
Pitt appeared upon the scene, he found those great men 
in full possession of the stage. The ease and suddenness 
with which he vaulted to the first place of honor and 
power, is well known. That he should succeed against 
such competition, was the strongest proof of talent he 
could give. At the age of twenty-three years, he had van- 
quished an opposing majority in the House of Commons, 
led by Fox, Sheridan and Burke — had won the nation to 
his side — and was wielding the destinies of the British 
empire. 

' See ! with united wonder, cried 
The experienced and the sage, 
Ambition in a boy supplied 
With all the skill of age! 



WILLIAM PITT. 279 

Discernment, eloquence and grace, 

Proclaim him born to sway' 
The scepter : in the highest place, 
And bear the palm away.' 

'* The oratory of Fox and Pitt was very unlike that of 
the great Triumvir already described. Their scene of 
glory was the arena of debate. Theirs was the skill and 
power acquired by the breaking of lances, by the parrying 
and giving of blows, in many a ' passage of arms.' More 
dexterous or powerful combatants never engaged in 
political warfare: a warfare maintained by them with 
scarce an intermission, for more than twenty years. The 
question of their comparative greatness it would be diffi- 
cult to settle, but we can easily perceive that they were 
very unlike.* Fox was persuasive, impetuous, powerful. 
To strong argument, and vehement appeal, he could add 
the lighter but often more effective weapons of ridicule 
and wit. Before his rushing charge, nothing, for the 
moment, could stand. But he was often incautious, and 
generally lacked that higher power, which is necessary to 
turn even victory to account. His antagonist had far 
more dignity, vigilance and prudence. He could never be 
thrown from his guard. He was lofty and fluent, but not 
impassioned; sarcastic, but not witty. The conflict of 
these rival statesmen was often that of Roderick Dhu and 
Snowdown's Knight. The giant strength and fiery valor 

* " It is not easy to decide relative to their respective superiority in elo- 
quence. Fox's oratory was more impassioned; Pitt's could boast greater cor- 
rectness of diction. The former exhibited, while speaking, all the tribunitian 
rage-, the latter displayed the consular dignity." " Pitt observed more mode- 
lation and measure than Fox; who on great occasions, seemed, like the 
Pythian priestess, ' to labor with th' inspiring God, 1 and to dissolve in floods 
of perspiration. Pitt, it is true, became sometimes warmed with his subject, 
and had occasionally recourse to his handkerchief; but rather in order to take 
breath, or to recall his thoughts, by a momentary pause, than from physical 
agitation. 11 — Wraxall. 



230 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of the highland chief are wasted on the air. — But ' Fitz 
James' blade is sword and shield.' Even the personal 
qualities of the two men, influenced probably in some de- 
gree, the judgments which were formed of their eloquence. 
Who can doubt that Mr. Fox would have been even more 
admired, and trusted, and beloved, if to his winning 
manners, and brilliant powers, he had added the virtuous 
circumspection of his illustrious rival?" 



CHAPTER XI. 



GEORGE CANNING. 

George Canning was born in London, on the 11th of 
April, 1770. He was early sent to Eton, where he soon 
became distinguished for the brilliancy of his genius and 
his habits of close, mental application. Here he pursued 
with great assiduity his favorite study — that of classical 
literature, and also acquired some celebrity as a poet. 
He wrote elegant Latin, Greek and English verses, and this 
ability gave him a high reputation at Eton. When about 
sixteen years of age, he established, in connection with 
some of his young companions in school, a weekly paper 
called the Microcosm, of which he was the principal 
editor. Many of the articles in this periodical possessed 
merit, and attracted the attention and admiration of the 
literary world. From Eton, at the age of seventeen, Mr. 
Canning was removed to Oxford. The distinction which 
he had acquired at Eton he fully maintained at the Uni- 
versity. At the completion of his collegiate education he 
had gained an exalted reputation as a man of brilliant 
genius, a fine scholar, a chaste writer, and an able orator 
and debater. Mr. Canning, leaving the University, in the 
twenty-second year of his age, was at the close of 1793 
brought into Parliament by William Pitt who had heard 
of his talents and of his oratory, and who was anxious to 
obtain the aid of such men as Canning to resist the tide 
of opposition. In Mr. Canning he found a firm friend, a 
faithful adherent, and an ardent champion of his political 



2S2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

measures. Mr. Canning was always a warm admirer of 
Mr. Pitt, and paid several eloquent tributes to his memory. 
So high was his regard for the character of the great 
Minister that he truly said, " In the grave of Mr. Pitt my 
political allegiance lies buried.' , 

In January, 1794, Mr. Canning made his first speech in 
the House of Commons. The oratorical powers which he 
displayed in his first effort commanded general respect, but 
did not cause that enthusiastic admiration which he after- 
wards called forth when he had attained the summit of 
his fame. As a public speaker, the highest qualities of 
Mr. Canning were not exhibited at once in all their splen- 
dor. He rose slowly to that grand point of oratorical 
eminence, which he finally occupied. " He w T as from the 
first easy and fluent ; he knew how to play with an argu- 
ment when he could not answer it; he had a great deal of 
real w T it, and too much of that ungenerous raillery and 
sarcasm, by which an antagonist may be made ridiculous, 
and the audience turned against him, without once meet- 
ing the question on its true merits. There was added to 
this an air of disregard for the feelings of others, and even 
of willingness to offend, which doubled the sense of injury 
every blow he struck; so that during the first ten years 
of his parliamentary career, he never made a speech, it 
w r as said, on which he particulary plumed himself, with- 
out making likewise an enemy for life." 

In 1796, Mr. Canning was made Under-Secretary of 
State; in 1804, he became Treasurer of the Navy; and on 
the death of Mr. Pitt, in 1S06, he went into opposition, as 
he did not receive any appointment in the new Cabinet. 
In 1807, he came in as Secretary of State for Foreign 
Affairs under the Duke of Portland; in 1814, he was sent 
as ambassador to Portugal; in 1822, he was appointed 
Governor-General of India, and was about to embark for 
Calcutta, wdien he was informed of the sudden death of 



GEORGE CANNING. 283 

Lord Csstlereagh, Secretary of Foreign Afiairs. Mr. Can- 
ning was again called to fill this important office, at a very 
critical period in English history. His elevation to office 
at this time was an honor to the British nation and a bless- 
ing to his country. The career of foreign policy which 
he now commenced was brilliant, and has justly excited 
the admiration of his countrymen, and of all impartial 
judges; but as our object is more particularly to dwell 
upon the beauties of orators and the leading character- 
istics of their style, we proceed to notice a few of the 
finest passages in the speeches of Mr. Canning, with the 
time and circumstances of their delivery. 

In 1823, during a visit to Plymouth, the well-known 
seat of British naval power, he delivered a speech which 
created a profound sensation in Europe on account of the 
political views that it expressed. It contains that immor- 
tal passage of the orator — his beautiful allusion to those 
" mighty masses " of ships, which were presented to his 
view, as an emblem of England while reposed in the 
arms of peace: 

" But while we thus control even our feelings by our 
duty, let it not be said that we cultivate peace either 
because we fear, or because we are unprepared for war; 
on the contrary, if eight months ago the government did 
not hesitate to proclaim that the country was prepared for 
war, if war should be unfortunately necessary, every 
month of peace that has since passed has but made us so 
much the more capable for exertion. The resources 
created by peace are means of war. In cherishing those 
resources, we but accumulate those means. Our present 
repose is no more a proof of inability to act, than the state 
of inertness and inactivity in which I have seen those mighty 
masses that float in the waters above your town, is a proof 
that they are devoid of strength, and incapable of being 
fitted out for action. You well know, gentlemen, how soon 



284 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

one of those stupendous masses, now reposing on their sha- 
dows in perfect stillness — how soon, upon any call of patriot- 
ism, or of necessity, it would assume the likeness of an ani- 
mated thing, instinct with life and motion — how soon it would 
ruffle, as it were, its swelling plumage — how quickly it would 
put forth all its beauty and its bravery, collect its scattered 
elements of strength, and awaken its dormant thunder. Such 
as is one of these magnificent machines when springing from 
inaction into a display of its might — such is England her- 
self while, apparently passive and motionless, she silently con- 
centrates the power to be put forth on an adequate occasion. 
But God forbid that that occasion should arise. Alter a 
war sustained for near a quarter of a century — sometimes 
single-handed, and with all Europe arranged at times 
against her, or at her side, England needs a period of 
tranquillity, and may enjoy it without fear of miscon- 
struction. Long may we be enabled, gentlemen, to im- 
prove the blessings of our present situation, to cultivate 
the arts of peace, to give to commerce, now reviving, 
greater extension, and new spheres of employment, and to 
confirm the prosperity now generally diffused throughout 
this island. Of the blessings of peace, gentlemen, I trust 
that this borough, with which I have now the honor and 
happiness of being associated, will receive an ample share. 
I trust the time is not far distant, when that noble structure 
of which, as I learn from your Recorder, the box with 
which you have honored me, through his hands, formed 
a part, that gigantic barrier against the fury of the waves 
that roll into your harbor, will protect a commercial marine 
not less considerable in its kind than the warlike marine 
of which your port has been long so distinguished an 
asylum, when the town of Plymouth will participate in 
the commercial prosperity as largely as it has hitherto done 
in the naval glories of England." 

"This is not merely eloquence — it is poetry in the 



GEORGE CANNING. 285 

beauty of its conception, it is painting in the complete 
delineation of its images; it is music in the harmony of 
its language." It is but seldom that we meet with a pas- 
sage of such uncommon beauty in the writings of any 
author, ancient or modern; and as long as the English 
language shall exist in its purity, it will be admired foi 
the grandeur of its conception, and the splendor of its 
imagery. 

Mr. Canning was a complete master of sarcasm. One 
of the finest specimens of this power is the following, 
which is found in the debate on the King's speech, in 1825. 
It comes down on Lord Brougham, his political antagonist, 
with overwhelming force: 

" I now turn to that other part of the honorable and 
learned gentleman's [Mr. Brougham's] speech, in which he 
acknowledges his acquiescence in the passages of the ad- 
dress echoing the satisfaction felt at the success of the 
liberal commercial principles adopted by this country, and 
at the steps taken for recognizing the new states of Ameri- 
ca. It does happen, however, that the honorable and 
learned gentleman being not unfrequently a speaker in 
this House, nor very concise in his speeches, and touching 
occasionally, as he proceeds, on almost every subject 
within the range of his imagination, as well as making 
some observations on the matter in hand — and having at 
different periods proposed and supported every innovation 
of which the law or Constitution of the country is sus- 
ceptible — it is impossible to innovate, without appearing 
to borrow from him. Either, therefore, we must remain 
forever absolutely locked up as in a northern winter, or 
we must break our way out by some mode already sug- 
gested by the honorable and learned gentleman, and then 
he cries out, ' Ah, I was there before you ! That is what 
I told you to do; but as you would not do it then, you 
have no right to do it now.' In Queen Anne's reign there 



286 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

lived a very sage and able critic, named Dennis, who, in 
his old age, was the prey of a strange fancy, that he had 
himself written all the good things in all the good plays 
that were acted. Every good passage he met with in any 
author he insisted was his own. ' It is none of his,' Den- 
nis would always say; 'no, it's mine I' He went one day 
to see a new tragedy. Nothing particularly good to his 
taste occurred, till a scene in which a great storm was 
represented. As soon as he heard the thunder rolling over 
head, he exclaimed, 'That's my thunder!' So it is with 
the honorable and learned gentleman; it's all his thunder. 
It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or 
make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thunder. 
But it is due to him to acknowledge that he does not 
claim every thing; he will be content with the exclusive 
merit of the liberal measures relating to trade and com- 
merce. Not desirous of violating his own principles, by 
claiming a monopoly of foresight and wisdom, he kindly 
throws overboard to my honorable and learned friend 
[Sir J. Mackintosh] near him, the praise of South America. 
I should like to know whether, in some degree, this also is 
not his thunder. He thinks it right itself; but lest we 
should be too proud if he approved our conduct in toto, 
he thinks it wrong in point of time. I differ from him 
essentially; for if I pique myself on any thing in this 
affair, it is the time. That, at some time or other, states 
which had separated themselves from the mother country 
should or should not be admitted to the rank of indepen- 
dent nations, is a proposition to which no possible dissent 
could be given. The whole question was one of time and 
mode. There were two modes: one a reckless and head- 
long course, by which we might have reached our object 
at once, but at the expense of drawing upon us conse- 
quences not highly to be estimated; the other was more 
strictly guarded in point of principle; so that, while we 



GEORGE CANNING. 287 

pursued our own interests, we took care to give no just 
cause of offense to other powers." 

On the 12th of December, 1826, Mr. Canning delivered 
his celebrated speech on affording aid to Portugal when 
invaded from Spain. It was perhaps the noblest effort he 
ever made in the House, and called forth tremendous 
applause from every quarter. " This," says his biographer, 
" is the master-piece of his eloquence. In propriety and 
force of diction — in excellence of appropriate and well- 
methodized arrangement — in elevation of style and sen- 
timent; and in all the vigorous qualities of genuine manly 
eloquence — boldness — judgment — firmness, it fully sus- 
tains its title to the high eulogy given it by Mr. Brougham 
at the close of the debate." 

" Mr. Canning was now at the height of his pow^ P 
wielding an influence more extended and complete than 
any foreign minister in this country Jiad ever enjoyed 
before. The subject to which he addressed himself in this 
instance was one that invoked the grandest attributes of 
his genius, and derived a peculiar felicity from being de- 
veloped by a British minister; and, above all, by that 
minister who had liberated the New World and crushed 
the tyrannies of the Old. It was not surprising, then, 
that, bringing to it all the vigor and enthusiasm of his 
intellect, and that vital beauty of style wiiich was the 
pervading charm of his great orations, he should have 
transcended on this occasion all his past efforts, and 
delivered a speech which not merely carried away the ad- 
miration of his hearers, but literally inflamed them into 
frenzy. The fabulous spells of Orpheus, w r ho made the 
woods dance reels and sarabands, never achieved so won- 
derful a piece of sorcery as this speech of Mr. Canning 
achieved over the passions, the judgment, the prejudices, 
and the stolid unbelief of the House of Commons. 

" This speech, as has been said of the eloquence of 



288 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Chatham was an era in the Senate.' The effect was tre- 
mendous. ' It was an epoch in a man's life,' says a mem- 
ber of the Commons, ' to have heard him. I shall never 
forget the deep, moral earnestness of his tone, and the 
blaze of glory that seemed to light up his features when 
he spoke of the Portuguese Charter.' The same writer 
furnishes the following details: 

6 He was equally grand when, in his reply, he said, I do 
not believe that there is that Spain of which our ancestors 
were so justly jealous, that Spain upon whose territories 
it was proudly boasted the sun never set! But when, in 
the style and manner of Chatham, he said, I looked to 
Spain in the Indies; I called a new world into existence to 
redress the balance of the old, the effect was actually ter- 
rific. It was as if every man in the House had been elec- 
trified. Tierney, who before that was shifting in his seat, 
and taking off his hat and putting it on again, and taking 
large and frequent pinches of snuff, and turning from side 
to side, till he, I suppose, wore his breeches through, 
seemed petrified, and sat fixed, and staring with his mouth 
open for half a minute ! Mr. Canning seemed actually to 
have increased in stature, his attitude was so majestic. I 
remarked his nourishes were made with his left arm; the 
effect was new and beautiful; his chest heaved and ex- 
panded, his nostril dilated, a noble pride slightly curled 
his lip; and age and sickness were dissolved and forgotten 
in the ardor of youthful genius; all the while a serenity 
sat on his brow that pointed to deeds of glory. It reminded 
me, and came up to what I have heard, of the effects of 
Athenian eloquence.' " 

He concluded this speech of unrivaled power with the 
following beautiful and noble peroration: " Let us fly to 
the aid of Portugal, by whomsoever attacked, because it is 
our duty to do so; and let us cease our interference where 
that duty ends. We go to Portugal not to rule, not to 



GEORGE CANNING. 2S9 

dictate, not to prescribe constitutions, but to defend and 
to preserve the independence of an ally. We go to plant 
the standard of England on the well-known heights of 
Lisbon. Where that standard is planted, foreign dominion 
shall not come." 

On the death of Lord Liverpool in 1827, Mr. Canning 
was made Prime Minister of England (April 12th). The 
summit of his ambition had now been fully attained; but, 
he was soon to fall. His health failed him, and on the 
8 th of August, 1827, he died, in the fifty-eighth year of his 
age. On the 16 th of August, his remains were borne to 
Westminster Abbey, where he was buried at the foot of 
Mr. Pitt's tomb. Thousands of hearts ached with sorrow 
at the sad event; the grief was universal and profound; 
the nation sincerely mourned his loss; and " Faction her- 
self wept upon his grave." 

The following impressive lines on his funeral, from the 
pen of Lord Morpeth, deserve to be inserted in this sketch: 

" I stood beside his tomb; no choral strain 
Peal'd through the aisle, above the mourning train, 
But purer, holier, seem'd to rise above 
The silent sorrow of a people's love. 

No banner'd scroll, no trophied car was there; 
No gleaming arms, no torches' murky glare: 
The plain and decent homage best defin'd 
The simple tenor of his mighty mind. 

His hard-earned, self- acq aired, enduring fame 
Needs not what wealth may buy or birth may claim: 
His worth, his deeds, no storied urns confine — 
The page of England's glory is their shrine. 

Are others wanting? Mark the dawn of peace 
That gilds the struggle of regenerate Greece;* 
On Lisbon's heights see Britain's flag unfurl'd — 
See Freedom bursting o'er an infant world. f 

• One of the last and noblest efforts of Mr. Canning was in behalf of oppressed Greeca. 
f Mr. Canning boldly recognized the new states of South America as independent states. 

37 



290 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Ask ye how some have loved, how all revere? 
Survey the group that bends around his bier; — 
Read well the heaving breast, the stifled moan, — 
Kings with their kingdoms could not win that groan." 

" In the person of Mr. Canning there were no extremes 
His dress was plain, but in thorough good taste. In most 
things, he seemed to partake of the character of his elo- 
quence; open and manly, conscious of power, and conse- 
quently simple and unpresuming, He was in the prime 
of his life, what might be called ' a very handsome man;' 
tall, well-made, his form moulded between strength and 
activity. His countenance beamed with intellect and bore 
a cast of firmness; yet a mild and good-natured expression 
lay over all. His head was even then bald as the ' first 
Caesar's;' his forehead lofty and capacious; his eye reflect- 
ive, but at times lively; and his whole countenance ex- 
pressive of the kindlier affections, — of genius, and of 
intellectual vigor 

" The elaborateness of his eloquence was not visible in 
his carriage in the drawing-room, nor his somewhat the- 
atrical manner of delivering his parliamentary speeches. 
His gait, as he paced the carpet, was natural, and wholly 
free of constraint. He seemed reserved, rather than 
communicative; he spoke quick, his voice full in tone, 
harmonious and clear. 

" The mind of Canning was, in the highest degree, cul- 
tivated and refined. It apprehended rather by a touch 
than a grasp, and illustrated a subject more by its lucidity 
than its intenseness. * * * if eloquence is the child 
of knowledge, Canning was legitimately an orator, for his 
intellect was rich in varied and comprehensive learning. 
His distinct and accurate conceptions were expressed in 
clear and luminous language, illustrated rather by allusion 
than imagery, and betraying less the profundity than the 
appropriateness of his acquirements. The range of his 



GEORGE CANNING. 291 

academic studies, wider by far than that of any of his 
great contemporaries, gave a beauty and simplicity to his 
style, and a point to his classical illustrations, altogether 
fascinating."* 

" Statutes of the departed statesman, and monuments, 
exist in many places in the world: and it is well; but the 
niche in history where the world holds the mind of the 
man enshrined forever, is his only worthy monument." 
" In him were combined, with a rich profusion, the most 
lively, original fancy — a happily retentive and ready 
memory — singular powers of lucid statement — and occa- 
sionally wit in all its varieties, now biting and sarcastic 
to overwhelm an antagonist — now pungent or giving 
point to an argument — now playful for mere amusement, 
and bringing relief to a tedious statement, or lending a 
charm 1o dry chains of close reasoning." — " His declama- 
tion, though often powerful, always beautifully ornate, 
never deficient in admirable diction, was certainly not of 
the very highest class. It wanted depth; it came from 
the mouth, not from the heart; and it tickled or even 
filled the ear father than penetrated the bosom of the 
listener. The orator never seemed to forget himself and 
be absorbed in his theme; he was not carried away by his 
passions, and carried not his audience along with him. 
An actor stood before us, a first-rate one, no doubt; but 
still an actor; and we never forgot that it was a repre- 
sentation we were witnessing, not a real scene. The 
Grecian artist was of the second class only, at whose fruit 
the birds pecked; while, on seeing Parrhasius's picture, 
men cried out to draw aside the curtain." 

The character of Mr. Canning has been well portrayed 
by Sir James Mackintosh. His description may be intro- 

* American Quarterly Review fo 1834, Vol. 16, No. 31: Art. Ufe and 
Policy of Canning. 



2 9 2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

duced here as a very beautiful and appropriate conclusion 
of this sketch: 

" Mr. Canning seems to have been the best model imong 
our orators of the adorned style. The splendid and sub- 
lime descriptions of Mr. Burke — his comprehensive and 
profound views of general principles — though they must 
ever delight and instruct the reader, must be owned to 
have been digressions which diverted the mind of the 
hearer from the object on which the speaker ought to have 
kept it steadily fixed. Sheridan, a man of amiable sense 
and matchless wit, labored to follow Burke into the foreign 
regions of feeling and grandeur. The specimens preserved 
of his most celebrated speeches show too much of the 
exaggeration and excess to which those are peculiarly 
liable who seek by art and effort what nature has denied. 
By the constant part which Mr. Canning took in debate, 
he was called upon to show a knowledge which Sheridan 
did not possess, and a readiness which that accomplished 
man had no such means of strengthening and displaying. 
In some qualities of style Mr. Canning surpassed Mr. Pitt. 
His diction was more various — sometimes more simple — 
more idiomatical, even in its more elevated parts. It 
sparkled with imagery, and was brightened by illustration; 
in both of which Mr. Pitt, for so great an orator, was 
defective 

" Had he been a dry and meager speaker, Mr. Canning 
would have been universally allowed to have been one of 
the greatest masters of argument; but his hearers were 
so dazzled by the splendor of his diction that they did not 
perceive the acuteness and the occasional excessive refine- 
ment of his reasoning; a consequence which, as it shows 
the injurious influence of a seductive fault, can with the 
less justness be overlooked in the estimate of his under- 
standing. Ornament, it must be owned, when it only 
pleases or amuses, without disposing the audience to adopt 



GEORGE CANNING. 293 

the sentiments of the speaker, is an offense against the first 
law of public speaking; it obstructs instead of promoting 
its only reasonable purpose. But eloquence is a widely- 
extended art, comprehending many sorts of excellence, in 
some of which ornamented diction is more liberally em- 
ployed than in others, and in none of which the highest 
rank can be attained without an extraordinary combina- 
tion of mental powers. 

" No English speaker used the keen and brilliant wea- 
pon of wit so long, so often, or so effectively, as Mr. Can- 
ning. He gained more triumphs, and incurred more en- 
mity by it than by any other. Those whose importance 
depends much on birth and fortune are impatient of 
seeing their own artificial dignity, or that of their order, 
broken down by derison; and perhaps few men heartily for- 
give a successful jest against themselves, but those who are 
conscious of being unhurt by it. Mr. Canning often used 
this talent imprudently. In sudden Hashes of wit and in 
the playful description of men or things, he was often 
distinguished by that natural felicity which is the charm 
of pleasantry, to which the air of art and labor is more 
fatal than to any other talent. The exuberance of fancy 
and wit lessened the gravity of his general manner, and 
perhaps also indisposed the audience to feel his earnestness 
where it clearly showed itself. In that important quality 
he was inferior to Mr. Pitt, 

' Deep on whose front engraven, 
Deliberation sat, and public care;' 

and no less inferior to Mr. Fox, whose fervid eloquence 
flowed from the love of his country, the scorn of baseness, 
and the hatred of cruelty, which were the ruling passions 
of his nature. 

" On the whole, it may be observed that the range of Mr. 
Canning's powers as an orator was wider than that in 



294 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

which he usually exerted them. When mere statement 
only was allowable, no man of his age was more simple. 
When infirm health compelled him to be brief, no speaker 
r.ould compress his matter with so little sacrifice of clear- 
ness, ease, and elegance. As his oratorical faults were 
those of youthful genius, the progress of age seemed to 
purify his eloquence, and every year appeared to remove 
some speck which hid, or at least dimmed, a beauty. He 
daily rose to larger views, and made, perhaps, as near 
approaches to philosophical principles as the great differ- 
ence between the objects of the philosopher and those of 
the orator will commonly allow. 

" Mr. Canning possessed, in a high degree, the out- 
ward advantages of an orator. His expressive counte- 
nance varied with the changes of his eloquence,* his voice, 
flexible and articulate, had as much compass as his mode 
of speaking required. In the calm part of his speeches, 
his attitude and gesture might have been selected by a 
painter to represent grace rising toward dignity. 

" In social intercourse Mr. Canning was delightful. 
Happily for the true charm of his conversation, he was 
too busy not to treat society as more fitted for relaxation 
than for display. It is but little to say that he was neither 
disputatious, declamatory, nor sententious — neither a 
dictator nor a jester. His manner was simple and unob- 
trusive; his language always quite familiar. If a higher 
thought stole from his mind, it came in its conversational 
undress. From this plain ground his pleasantry sprang 
with the happiest effect; and it was nearly exempt from 
that alloy of taunt and banter which he sometimes mixed 
with more precious materials in public contest. He may 
be added to the list of those eminent persons who pleased 
most in their friendly circle. He had the agreeable quality 
of being more easily pleased in society than might have 
been expected from the keenness of his discernment and 



GEORGE CANNING. 295 

the sensibility of his temper; still, he was liable to be dis- 
composed, or even silenced, by the presence of any one 
whom he did not like. His manner in company betrayed 
the political vexations or anxieties which preyed on his 
mind: nor could he conceal the sensitiveness to public 
attacks which their frequent recurrence wears out in most 
English politicians. These last foibles may be thought 
interesting as the remains of natural character, not de- 
stroyed by refined society and political affairs. 

" In some of the amusements or tasks of his boyhood 
there are passages which, without much help from fancy, 
might appear to contain allusions to his greatest mea- 
sures of policy, as well as to the tenor of his life, and 
to the melancholy splendor which surrounded his death. 
In the concluding line of the first English verses written 
by him at Eton, he expressed a wish, which has been 
singularly realized, that he might 

1 Live in a blaze, and in a blaze expire.' 

It is a striking coincidence, that the statesman, whose 
dying measure was to mature an alliance for the deliver- 
ance of Greece, should, when a boy, have written English 
verses on the slavery of that country; and that in his 
prize poem at Oxford, on the Pilgrimage to Mecca — a 
composition as much applauded as a modern Latin poem 
can aspire to be — he should have so bitterly deplored the 
lot of other renowned countries now groaning under the 
same barbarous yoke, 

1 Nunc satrapoe imperio et saevo sabdita Turcae.' 

" To conclude: He was a man of fine and brilliant 
genius, of warm affections of a high and generous spirit — 
a statesman who, at home, converted most of his oppo- 
nents into warm supporters; who, abroad, was the sole 
hope and trust of all who sought an orderly and legal 



296 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

liberty-, and who was cut off in the midst of vigorous 
and splendid measures, which, if executed by himself or 
with his own spirit, promised to place his name in the 
first class of rulers, among the founders of lasting peace 
and the guardians of human improvement." 



CHAPTER XII. 



LOED BROUGHAM. 

Henry Brougham was born at Edinburgh in 1779. At 
the High School of that city he received the rudiments of 
his education. While there, he made rapid progress in 
acquiring an extensive knowledge of the various branches 
of science and general literature. He was eager in the 
pursuit of his studies — in obtaining information on 
almost every subject embraced within the range of human 
investigation; hence, as an eminent critic remarks, "he 
has brought into his speeches a wider range of collateral 
thought than any of our orators, except Burke." 

Entering the University of Edinburgh at the age of 
sixteen, he soon gained the highest distinction for his 
attainments in mathematical studies. His knowledge of 
science was, indeed, extraordinary for one so young. 
Before he was seventeen years of age, his essay on the 
" Flection and Reflection of Light " appeared, which was 
inserted in the Edinburgh Philosophical Transactions. 

Having finished his college course, Mr. Brougham com- 
menced the study of the law, as a profession. He was 
soon called to the bar, and began his practice with great 
success, in Edinburgh. Besides attending to his profes- 
sional businsss, he devoted a large portion of his time to 
literature, history, and politics. He has written and pub- 
lished more than most of the English orators; and his 

writings are highly esteemed, especially for the excellent 
38 



293 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

reformatory sentiments with which they abound. Lord 
Brougham is one of the greatest political reformers that 
ever sat in Parliament. He has labored hard to eradicate 
some of the evils existing in the English government ; and 
success has, in many instances, ci owned his exertions. 

His first work, entitled The Colonial x olicy of the Euro- 
pean Powers, was published in 1803; and his volume on 
the State of the Nation appeared after his removal to 
London. His speeches in four octavo volumes are very 
highly valued for their bold assertion of the rights of the 
people; for their exhibition of the abuses existing in ihe 
administration of the British government; and for their 
eloquent appeals in behalf of Law and Parliamentary 
Reform. In advocating his principles, Lord Brougham 
met with decided opposition from the enemies of re- 
form. In a passage of extreme beauty, which is well 
worthy of insertion here, he shows what has been the fate 
of the reformer in all ages of the world: 

" I have heard it said that, when one lifts up his voice 
against things that are, and wishes for a change, he is 
raising a clamor against existing institutions, a clamor 
against our venerable establishments, a clamor against the 
law of the land; but this is no clamor against the one or 
the other, — it is a clamor against the abuse of them all. 
It is a clamor raised against the grievances that are felt. 
Mr. Burke, who was no friend to popular excitement, — 
who was no ready tool of agitation, no hot-headed enemy 
of existing establishments, no under-valuer of the wisdom 
of our ancestors, no scoffer against institutions as they 
are, — has said, and it deserves to be fixed, in letters of 
gold, over the hall of every assembly which calls itself a 
legislative body, — c Where there is abuse,, there ought to 
be clamor; because it is better to have our slumber broken 
by the fire-bell, than to perish, amidst the flames, in our 
bed.' I have been told, by some who have little objection 



LORD BROUGHAM. 299 

to the clamor, that I am a timid and a mock reformer ; 
and by others, if I go on firmly and steadily, and do not 
allow myself to be driven aside by either one outcry or 
another, and care tor neither, that it is a rash and danger- 
ous innovation which I propound; and that I am taking, 
for the subject of my reckless experiments, things which 
are the objects of all men's veneration. I disregard the 
one as much as I disregard the other of these charges 

' False honor charms, and lying slander scares, 
Whom, but the false, and faulty?' 

' It has been the lot of all men, in all ages, who have 
aspired at the honor of guiding, instructing, or mending 
mankind, to have their paths beset by every persecution 
from adversaries, by every misconstruction from friends; 
no quarter from the one, — no charitable construction from 
the other! To be misconstrued, misrepresented, borne 
down, till It was in vain to bear down any longer, has been 
their fate. But truth will survive, and calumny has its 
day. I say that, if this be the fate of the reformer, — if 
he be the object of misrepresentation, — may not an infer- 
ence be drawn favorable to myself? Taunted by the 
enemies of reform as being too rash, by the over-zealous 
friends of reform as being too slow or too cold, there is 
every reason for presuming that I have chosen the right 
course. A reformer must proceed steadily in his career; 
not misled, on the one hand, by panegyric, nor discouraged 
by slander, on the other. He wants no praise. I would 
rather say, — i Woe to him when all men speak w r ell of 
him!' I shall go on in the course which I have laid down 
for myself ; pursuing the foot-steps of those who have 
gone before us, who have left us their instructions and 
success, — their instructions to guide our walk, and their 
success to cheer our spirits." 

Another of the finest passages of his eloquence is con- 



300 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 

tained in his great speech on Parliamentary Reform, de- 
livered in the Honse of Lords, October 7, 1831. When 
Earl Grey came in as Prime Minister in 1830, the Reform 
Bill was brought forward; after it had reached the House 
of Lords on the 31st of October, 1831, Brougham took up 
the subject, and answered the arguments of his opponents 
in one of the most powerful speeches ever made. " He 
began in a mild and conciliatory manner, unwilling to 
injure his cause by the harshness in which he too com- 
monly indulged, and answered a part of the arguments in 
a strain of good-humored wit and pleasantry which has 
rarely been surpassed. But after repeated interruptions, 
some of them obviously designed to put him down, he 
changed his tone, and spoke for nearly three hours more 
with a keenness of rebuke, a force of argument, and a bold- 
ness of declamation which secured him a respectful hear- 
ing, and extorted the confession from his adversary, Lord 
Lyndhurst, that a more powerful speech of the kind had 
never been delivered in the House of Lords." 

Showing the danger of deUy, in the peroration of this 
speech, he summoned all his energies and broke forth in a 
strain of the loftiest declamation, attracting the admira- 
tion of his friends, and exciting the fear of his enemies by 
the power of his arguments and the vehemence of his elo- 
quence. 

"My Lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude 
which I feel for the event of this debate, because 1 know 
full w r ell that the peace of the country is involved in the 
issue. I can not look without dismay at the rejection of 
the measure. Bu« grievous as may be the consequences 
of a temporary defeat — temporary it can only be; for its 
ultimate, and even speedy success, is certain. Nothing 
can now stop it. Do not suffer yourselves to be persuaded 
that even if the present ministers were driven from the 
helm, any one could steer you through the troubles which 



LORD BROUGHAM. SOI 

surround you without reform. But our successors would 
take up the task in circumstances far less auspicious. Un- 
der them, you would be fain to grant a bill, compared with 
which the one we now proffer you is moderate indeed. 
Hear the parable of the Sibyl; for it conveys a wise and 
wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and 
offers you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes *-** 
of wisdom and peace. The price she asks is reasonable; 
to restore the franchise, which, without any bargain, you 
ought voluntarily to give; you refuse her terms — her 
moderate terms — she darkens the porch no longer. But 
soon, for you can not do without her wares, you call her 
back; again she comes, but with diminished treasures; the 
leaves of the book are in part torn away by lawless 
hands — in part defaced with characters of blood. But 
the prophetic maid had risen in her demands — it is Par- 
liaments by the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is 
suffrage by the million! From this you turn away indig- 
nant, and for the second time she departs. Beware of hej 
third coming; for the treasure you must have; and what 
price she may next demand, who shall tell? It may even 
be the mace which rests upon that wool-sack. What may 
follow your course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I can not 
take upon me to predict, nor do I wish to conjecture. But 
this I know full well, that, as sure as man is mortal, and 
to err is human, justice deferred enhances the price at 
which you must purchase safety and peace; nor can you 
expect to gather in another crop than they did w r ho went 
before you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable 
husbandry, of sowing injustice and reaping rebellion. 

" But among the awful considerations that now bow 
down my mind, there is one which stands pre-eminent 
above the rest. You are the highest judicature in the 
realm; you sit here as judges, and decide all causes, civil 
and criminal, without appeal. It is a judge's first duty 



302 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

never to pronounce sentence in the most trifling case with- 
out hearing Will you make this the exception? Are 
you really prepared to determine, but not to hear, the 
mighty cause upon which a nation's hopes and fears harg? 
You are. Then beware of your decision! Rouse not, I 
beseech you, a peace-loving, but a resolute people; alien- 
ate not from your body the affections of a whole empire. 
As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of 
my country, as the faithful servant of my Sovereign, I 
counsel you to assist with your uttermost efforts in pre- 
serving the peace, and upholding and perpetuating the 
Constitution. Therefore, I pray and exhort you not to 
reject this measure. By all you hold most dear — by all 
the ties that bind every one of us to our common order 
and our common country, I solemnly adjure you — I warn 
you — I implore you — yea, on my bended knees, I suppli- 
cate you — reject not this bill!"* 

Lord Brougham has always been a warm friend of litera- 
ture. He has ever taken the greatest delight in the pro- 
motion of science and erudition. Even before his removal 
to London, he united with some of his literary friends in 
establishing the Edinburgh Review; and for nearly twenty 
years he continued to be one of the regular contributors 
to that celebrated periodical. 

Perhaps the most valuable production of his pen is his 
Historical Sketches of Statesmen, who flourished in the 
time of George III. It is indispensable to the student in 
oratory, for the delineation of character, which it presents. 

* " So completely had Lord Brougham wrought up his own feelings and 
those of his hearers at the close of this speech, that it was nothing strained or 
unnatural — it was, in fact, almost a matter of course — for him to sink down 
upon one of his knees at the table where he stood, when he uttered the last 
words, 'I supplicate you — reject not this bill!' But the sacrifice was too 
great a one for that proud nobility to make at once, and the bill was rejected 
by a majority & forty-one, of whom twenty-one belonged to the board of bishops 
of the Establishe • Church." 



LORD BROUGHAM 303 

!.- contains a large amount of original matter on this 
subject, exhibiting, in lucid light, the leading traits in the 
character of England's greatest statesmen. 

Lord Brougham is certainly one of the most powerful 
orators that ever swayed the British senate. In vehement, 
sarcastic eloquence he has but few equals. For many 
years have the thunders of his eloquence shaken the 
senate of his country; and now, when he has nearly 
reached the close of a long and useful life, he is the " old 
man eloquent" 

As an antagonist in debate, no one is more to be dreaded 
than Brougham. No one can overwhelm an adversary 
with more piercing sarcasm than he. The following ac- 
count of an intellectual collision between him and Can- 
ning, exhibiting the peculiar characteristics of their ora- 
tory, will be a fitting close to this sketch. It is related by 
an eye-witness: 

" The following comparison between the subject of this 
sketch and his great parliamentary rival will interest the 
reader as presenting the characteristic qualities of each 
in bolder relief from their juxtaposition. It is from the. 
pen of one who had watched them both with the keenest 
scrutiny during their conflicts in the House of Commons. 
The scene described in the conclusion arose out of a 
memorable attack of Mr. Canning on Lord Folkestone for 
intimating, that he had ' truckled to France.' ' The Lace- 
daemonians,' said Mr. C, ' were in the habit of deterring 
their children from the vice of intoxication by occasion- 
ally exhibiting their slaves in a state of disgusting ine- 
briety. But, sir, there is a moral as well as a physical 
intoxication. Never before did I behold so perfect a per- 
sonification of the character which I have somewhere 
seen described, as exhibiting the contortions of the Sibyl 
without her inspiration. Such was the nature of the 
noble Lord' soeech." Mr. Brougham took occasion, a 



301 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

few evenings after, to retort on Mr. Canning and repeat 
the charge, in the manner here described; but first we 
have a sketch of their characteristics as orators. 

" Canning was airy, open, and prepossessing; Brougham 
seemed stern, hard, lowering, and almost repulsive. Can- 
ning's features were handsome, and his eye, though deeply 
ensconced under his eyebrows, was full of sparkle and 
gayety; the features of Brougham were harsh in the ex- 
treme: while his forehead shot up to a great elevation, his 
chin was long and square; his mouth, nose and eyes 
seemed huddled together in the center of his face, the 
eyes absolutely lost amid folds and corrugations; and 
while he sat listening, they seemed to retire inward or to 
be vailed by a filmy curtain, which not only concealed the 
appalling glare which shot from them when he was aroused, 
but rendered his mind and his purpose a sealed book to 
the keenest scrutiny of man. Canning's passions appeared 
upon the open champaign of his face, drawn up in ready 
array, and moved to and fro at every turn of his own ora- 
tion and every retort in that of his antagonist. Those of 
Brougham remained within, as in a citadel which no artil- 
lery could batter and no mine blow up; and even when he 
was putting forth all the power of his eloquence, when 
every ear was tingling at what he said, and while the 
immediate object of his invective was writhing in helpless 
and indescribable agony, his visage retained its cold and 
brassy hue; and he triumphed over the passions of other 
men by seeming to be without passion himself. When 
Canning rose to speak, he elevated his countenance, and 
seemed to look round for applause as a thing dear to his 
feelings; while Brougham stood coiled and concentrated, 
reckless of all but the power that was within himself. 

" From Canning there was expected the glitter of wit 
and the glow of spirit — something showy and elegant; 
Brougham stood up as a being whose powers and inten- 



LORD BROUGHAM. 305 

tions were all a mystery — whose aim and effect no living 
man could divine. You bent forward to catch the first 
sentence of the one, and felt human nature elevated in the 
specimen before you; you crouched and shrunk back from 
the other, and dreams of ruin and annihilation darted 
across your mind. The one seemed to dwell among men, 
to join in their joys, and to live upon their praise; the 
other appeared a son of the desert, who had deigned to 
visit the human race merely to make it tremble at his 
strength. 

" The style of their eloquence and the structure of their 
orations were just as different. Canning arranged his 
words like one who could play skilfully upon that sweetest 
of all instruments, the human voice; Brougham proceeded 
like a master of every power of reasoning and the under- 
standing. The modes and allusions of the one were 
always quadrable by the classical formulae; those of the 
other could be squared only by the higher analysis of the 
mind; and they soared, and ran, and pealed, and swelled 
on and on, till a single sentence was often a complete ora- 
tion within itself; but still, so clear was the logic, and so 
close the connection, that every member carried the 
weight of all that went before, and opened the way for all 
that was to follow after. The style of Canning was like 
the convex mirror, which scatters every ray of light that 
falls upon it, and shines and sparkles in whatever position 
it is viewed; that of Brougham was like the concave 
speculum, scattering no indiscriminate radiance, but hav- 
ing its light concentrated into one intense and tremendous 
focus. Canning marched forward in a straight and clear 
track; every paragraph was perfect in itself, and every 
coruscation of wit and of genius was brilliant and de- 
lightful; it was all felt, and it was felt all at once: 
Brougham twined round and round in a spiral, sweeping 

the contents of a vast circumference before him, and 
39 



2?Q ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

uniting and pouring them onward to the main p. Int of 
attack. 

" Such were the rival orators, who sat glancing hostility 
and defiance at each other during the session of eighteen 
hundred and twenty- three — Brougham, as if wishing to 
overthrow the Secretary by a sweeping accusation ot 
having abandoned all principle for the sake of office; 
and the Secretary ready to parry the charge and attack in 
his turn. An opportunity at length offered. Upon that 
occasion the oration of Brougham was disjointed and 
ragged, and apparently without aim or application. He 
careered over the whole annals of the world, and col- 
lected every instance in which genius had prostituted 
itself at the footstool of power, or principle had been 
sacrificed for the vanity or the lucre of place; but still 
there was no allusion to Canning, and no connection, that 
ordinary men could discover, with the business before the 
House. When, however, he had collected every material 
which suited his purpose — when the mass had become big 
and black, he bound it about and about with the cords of 
illustration and argument; when its union was secure, he 
swung it round and round with the strength of a giant 
and the rapidity of a whirlwind, in order that its im- 
petus and its effects might be the more tremendous; and 
while doing this, he ever and anon glared his eye, and 
pointed his finger, to make the aim and the direction sure. 
Canning himself was the first that seemed to be aware 
where and how terrible was to be the collision; and he 
kept writhing his body in agony and rolling his eye in 
fear, as if anxious to find some shelter from the impending 
bolt. The House soon caught the impression, and every 
man in it was glancing fearfully, first toward the orator, 
and then toward the Secretary. There was, save the voice 
of Brougham, which growled in that under tone of mut- 
tered thunder which is so fearfully audible, and of which 



LORD BROUGHAM 307 

no speaker of the day was fully master but hi nself, a 
silence as if the angel of retribution had been flaring in 
the faces of all parties the scroll of their personal and 
political sins. The stiffness of Brougham's figure had 
vanished; his features seemed concentrated almost to a 
point; he glanced toward every part of the House in suc- 
cession; and, sounding the death-knell of the Secretary's 
forbearance and prudence with both his clenched hands 
upon the table, he hurled at him an accusation more 
dreadful in its gall, and more torturing in its effects, than 
had ever been hurled at mortal man within the same walls. 
The result was instantaneous — was electric. It was as 
when the thunder-cloud descends upon the giant peak; 
one flash — one peal — the sublimity vanished, and all 
that remained was a small and cold pattering of rain. 
Canning started to his feet, and was able only to utter 
the unguarded words, 'It is false!' to which followed a 
dull chapter of apologies. From that moment the House 
became more a scene of real business than of airy display 
and angry vituperation." 



CHAPTER XIIL 



PATRICK HENET. 

The earliest specimens of American eloquence are sub- 
lime and patriotic. The erection of the glorious fabric of 
liberty in this country called forth the highest efforts of 
oratory. The Revolutionary contest afforded an ample 
theme for the exhibition of all that is touching, indignant, 
daring, grand and overwhelming in eloquence; hence, we 
find in the speeches of our Revolutionary orators, some 
of the most vehement passages that ever stirred the human 
souL It was then that the orators of freedom raised their 
-ro'cfes in tones of thunder against oppression. It was the 
brightest period in the history of British and American 
eloquence. 

" The period of our Colonial and Revolutionary history 
was, in fact, an era of great superiority in eloquence, at 
home and abroad. England then presented an array of 
orators such as she has known at no other time. In West- 
minster Hall, the accomplished Mansfield was constantly 
heard in support of kingly power, while the philosophic 
and argumentative Camden exercised his mighty intellect 
in defence of popular rights. Burke had awoke with all 
his wealth of fancy, daring imagination and comprehen- 
sive learning. Fox had entered the arena of forensic and 
senatorial gladiatorship, with his great, glowing heart, and 
titanic passions, all kindled into volcanic heat. Junius, 
by his sarcasm and audacity, stung the loftiest circles into 
desperation. Erskine embellished the darkened heavens 



PATRICK HENRY. 309 

by the rainbow tints of his genius; and Chatham, worthily 
succeeded by his ' cloud-compelling ' son, ruled the bil- 
lowy sea of excited mind with the majesty of a god." 

Among the most renowned American orators and patriots 
who flourished during the period of which we are speak- 
ing, we may mention the names of James Otis, Samuel 
Adams, Josiah Quincy, Joseph Warren, John Hancock, JoLiN - 
Adams, Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee. 

The style of eloquence prevalent in those days may be 
readily seen by a reference to the speeches of our Revo- 
lutionary patriots and orators. A few brief extracts from 
such orations will not be deemed inappropriate here. 
While the banner of Liberty shall continue to spread its 
folds over our Republic, the sentiments of our patriotic 
forefathers can not be repeated without thrilling emotions. 
What American can read the speech of Gen. Warren on 
the Boston massacre without being moved? 

" The voice of your fathers' blood cries to you from the 
ground, My sons, scorn to be slaves ! In vain we met the 
frowns of tyrants; in vain we crossed the boisterous 
ocean, found a new world, and prepared it for the happy 
residence of liberty; in vain we toiled, in vain we fought, 
we bled in vain, if you, our offspring want valor to repel 
the assaults of her invaders! Stain not the glory of your 
worthy ancestors; but, like them, resolve never to part 
with your birthright. Be wise in your deliberations, and 
determined in your exertions for the preservation of your 
liberties. Follow not the dictates of passion, but enlist 
yourselves under the sacred banner of reason. Use every 
method in your power to secure your rights. At least, 
prevent the curses of posterity from being heaped upon 
your memories. 

" If you, with united zeal and fortitude, oppose the tor- 
rent of oppression; if you feel the true fire of patriotism 
burning in vour breasts; if you from your souls despise 



310 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the most gaudy dress that slavery can wear; if yoa really 
prefer the lonely cottage (whilst blessed with liberty) to 
gilded palaces, surrounded with tlie ensigns of slavery, — 
you may have the fullest assurance that tyranny, with her 
whole accursed train, will hide their hideous heads in 
confusion, shame and despair. If you perform your part, 
you must have the strongest confidence that the same Al- 
mighty Being, who protected your pious and venerable 
forefathers*, who enabled them to turn a barren wilder- 
ness into a fruitful field, who so often made bare his arm 
for their salvation, will still be mindful of you, their off- 
spring. 

" May this Almighty Being graciously preside in all our 
councils. May he direct us to such measures as he him- 
self shall approve, and be pleased to bless. May we ever 
be a people favored of God. May our land be a land of 
liberty, the seat of virtue, the asylum of the oppressed, a 
name and a praise in the whole earth, until the last shock 
of time shall bury the empires of the world in one com- 
mon, undistinguished ruin!" 

Similar to this is the language of Quincy. A little 
before the storm of the Revolution burst on the land, he 
addressed his townsmen in a memorable speech, from 
which the following is an extract: " Oh, my countrymen! 
what will our children say when they read the history of 
these times, should they find we tamely gave way, without 
one noble struggle, the most invaluable of earthly bless- 
ings? As they drag the galling chain, will they not exe- 
crate us? If we have any respect for things sacred; tiny 
regard to the dearest treasure on earth; — if we have one 
tender sentiment for posterity; — if we would not be de- 
spised by the world; — let us, in the most open, solemn 
manner, and with determined fortitude swear, — we will 
die, — if we can not live freemen !" 

On the 5th of March, 1774, John Hancock made an ani- 



IATRICK HENRY. 311 

mating speech to the citizens of Boston which was con- 
cluded with the following elevated sentiments: " I have 
the most animating confidence, that the present noble 
struggle for liberty will terminate gloriously for America. 
And let us play the man for our God, and for the cities of 
our God; while we are using the means in our power, let 
us humbly commit our righteous cause to the great Lord 
of the universe, who loveth righteousness and hateth 
iniquity. And having secured the approbation of our 
hearts, by a faithful and unwearied discharge of our duty 
to our country, let us joyfully leave our concerns in the 
hands of Him who raiseth up and pulleth down the em- 
pires and kingdoms of the world." 

The terrible denunciations which he poured forth in his 
oration on the Boston Massacre, are a striking example of 
Hancock's style: " Let this sad tale of death never be told 
without a tear; let not the heaving bosom cease to burn 
with a manly indignation at the relation of it, through 
the long tracts of future time; let every parent tell the 
shameful story to his listening children till tears of pity 
glisten in their eyes, or boiling passion shakes their tender 
frames. 

"Dark and designing knaves, murderers, parricides! 
how dare you tread upon the earth which has drunk the 
blood of slaughtered innocence, shed by your hands? 
How dare you breathe that air which wafted to the ear of 
heaven the groans of those who fell a sacrifice to your 
accursed ambition? But if the laboring earth does not 
expand her jaws — if the air you breathe is not com- 
missioned to be the minister of death — yet, hear it, and 
tremble ! The eye of heaven . penetrates the secret cham- 
bers of the soul; and you, though screened from human 
observation, must be arraigned — must lift your hands, 
red with the blood of those whose death you have procured, 
at the tremendous b-vr of God." 



312 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Such was that eloquence which came from the lips of 
the first orators of freedom in our country. But we pro- 
ceed to notice the subject of this sketch, who has been 
admirably styled the " forest-born Demosthenes " and the 
" incarnation of Revolutionary zeal." 

Patrick Henry was born on the 29th of May, 1736, at 
Studley, Hanover county, Virginia. His father, Col. John 
Henry, was a native of Aberdeen, in Scotland, and he is 
said to have been a nephew of Dr. William Robertson, the 
celebrated historian. 

Patrick Henry was early sent to school, where he pur- 
sued common English studies, and acquired a superficial 
knowledge of Latin. He never became a thorough scholar. 
Like Shakspeare, he knew little Latin and less Greek. He 
learned to read the character, but never to translate Greek. 
Literary pursuits had little attraction for his youthful 
mind. On the contrary, he delighted in hunting and fish- 
ing. No persuasions, says his biographer, could bring him 
either to read or work. He ran wild in the forest, like 
one of the aborigines of the country, and divided his life 
between the dissipation and uproar of the chase and the 
languor of inaction. He was often seen with his angle- 
rod lying alone, under the shade of some tree that over- 
hung the sequestered stream, watching, for hours, at the 
same spot, the motionless cork of his fishing line, without 
one encouraging symptom of success, and without any 
apparent source of enjoyment, unless he could find it in 
the ease of his posture, or in the illusions of hope, or, 
which is most probable, in the stillness of the scene, and 
the silent workings of his own imagination. 

Though he studied but few books, Mr. Henry was deeply 
read in the great volume of human nature. To a friend 
who said to him, " I have just heard of a new work, which 
I am extremely anxious to peruse," he replied, " Take my 
word for it, we are too old to read books: read men — 



PATRICK HENRY. 313 

they are the only volumes that we can peruse to advan- 
tage." 

At the age of fifteen, Mr. Henry was placed behind the 
counter of a country store. The next year he became a 
merchant, but soon failed. At the early age of eighteen, 
he married, and went to labor on a small farm. " It is 
curious to contemplate this giant genius, destined in a 
few years to guide the councils of a mighty nation, but 
unconscious of the intellectual treasures which he pos- 
sessed, encumbered, at the early age of eighteen, with 
the cares of a family; obscure, unknown, and almost un- 
pitied; digging, with wearied limbs and with an aching 
heart, a small spot of barren earth, for bread, and blessing 
the hour of night which relieved him from toil. Little 
could the wealthy and great of the land, as they rolled 
along the highway in splendor, and beheld the young 
rustic at work in the coarse garb of a laborer, covered 
with dust and melting in the sun, have suspected that this 
was the man who was destined not only to humble their 
pride, but to make the prince himself tremble on his dis- 
tant throne, and to shake the brightest jewels from the 
British crown." 

After a short trial, Mr. Henry abandoned agricultural 
pursuits, and engaged again in mercantile business. He 
met with still worse success than before. He was reduced 
to extreme poverty. He now turned his attention to the 
law, and after six weeks 1 study, obtained a license to 
practice. He was then twenty-four years of age. When 
he had reached his twenty- seventh year an opportunity 
was afforded for exhibiting, in their full splendor, those 
powers of oratory which he possessed. 

A suit, familiarly known as the " parsons' cause, ;; in 

which the clergy and people of Virginia were arrayed in 

opposition, was to be tried. The controversy caused great 

excitement, and people from a distance assembled to hear 
40 



314 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the trial. Mr. Henry was counsel for the people, and was 
victorious. It was then that his genius first broke forth. 
The scene and circumstances of this, his first triumph in 
eloquence, are graphically described by Mr. Wirt:* 

" Soon after the opening of the court, the cause was 
called. It stood on a writ of inquiry of damages, no plea 
having been entered by the defendants since the judgment 
on the demurrer. The array before Mr. Henry's eyes was 
now most fearful. On the bench sat more than twenty 
clergymen, the most learned men in the colony, and the 
most capable as well as the severest critics, before whom 
it was possible for him to make his debut. The court- 
house was crowded with an overwhelming multitude, and 
surrounded with an immense and anxious throng, who, 
not finding room to enter, were endeavoring to listen with- 
out, in the deepest attention. But there was something 
still more awfully disconcerting than all this; for in the 
chair of the presiding magistrate sat no other person than 
his own father. Mr. Lyons opened the cause very briefly: 

* William Wirt was born at Bladensburg, Maryland, on the 8th of Novem- 
ber, 1772. He obtained his license to practice law, in 1792. In 1807, he 
gained a wide reputation in the trial of Aaron Burr, against whom he was 
employed as prosecuting counsel. The British Spy was written in 1803 ; the 
Old Bachelor, in 1812; and the Life of Patrick Henry appeared in 18 17. In 
the same year, Mr. Wirt was appointed by President Monroe, Attorney- 
General of the United States. He died at Washington, on the 18th of Feb- 
ruary, 1834. 

Mr. Wirt ranks among the first class of forensic orators. u His manner in 
speaking was singularly attractive. His manly form, his intellectual counte 
nance and musical voice, set off by a rare gracefulness of gesture, won, in ad- 
vance the favor of his auditory. He was calm, deliberate and distinct in his 
enunciation, not often rising into any high exhibition of passion, and never 
sinking into tameness. His key was that of earnest aud animated argument, 
frequency alternated with that of a playful and sprightly humor. His lan» 
guage was neat, well chosen, and uttered without impediment or slovenly 
repetition. The tones of his voice played, with a natural skill, through the 
various cadences most appropriate to express the flitting emotions of his mind, 
and the changes of his thought. To these external properties of his elocution 



PATRICK HENRY. £ 15 

in the way of argument he did nothing more than explain 
to the jury, that the decision upon the demurrer had put 
the act of seventeen hundred and fifty-eight entirely out 
of the way, and left the law of seventeen hundred and 
forty-eight as the only standard of their damages; he then 
concluded with a highly-wrought eulogium on the benevo- 
lence of the clergy. 

" And now came on the first trial of Patrick Henry's 
strength. No one had ever heard him speak, and curiosity 
was on tiptoe. He rose very awkwardly, and faltered 
much in his exordium. The people hung their heads at 
so unpromising a commencement; the clergy were observed 
to exchange sly looks with each other; and his father is 
described as having almost sunk with confusion from his 
seat. But these feelings were of short duration, and soon 
gave place to others, of a very different character. For 
now were those wonderful faculties which he possessed, 
for the first time, developed; and now was first witnessed 
that mysterious and almost supernatural transformation 

we may ascribe the pleasure which persons of all conditions found in listening 
to him. Women often crowded the court-rooms to hear him, and as often 
astonished him, not only by the patience, but the visible enjoyment with which 
they were wont to sit out his argument to the end, — even when the topic 
was too dry to interest them, or too abstruse for them to understand his dis- 
course. It was the charm of manner, of which the delicate tact of woman is 
ever found to be the truest gauge and the most appreciative judge. His ora- 
tory was not of that strong, bold and impetuous nature which is often the 
chief characteristic of the highest eloquence, and which is said to sway the 
Senate with absolute dominion, and to imprison or set free the storm of human 
passion, in the multitude, according to the speaker's will. It was smooth, 
polished, scholar-like, sparkling with pleasant fancies, and beguiling the 
listener by its varied graces, out of all note or consciousness of time. 

" Without claiming for Mr. Wirt the renown of the most powerful orator 
or the profoundest lawyer in the country, it is sufficient praise to say, that he 
stood beside the first men of his day, equal in rank and repute, and superior 
to most, if not all, in the various accomplishments which he brought to the 
adornment of his profession. — Memoirs of the Life of William Wirt by /. P. 
Kennedy, vol. 2, p. 384. 



3 1 3 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of appearance, which the fire of his own eloquence never 
failed to work in him. For as his mind rolled along, and 
began to glow from its own action, all the exuvias of the 
clown seemed to shed themselves spontaneously. His 
attitude, by degrees, became erect and lofty. The spirit 
of his genius awakened all his features. His counte- 
nance shone with a nobleness and grandeur which it never 
before exhibited. There was a lightning in his eyes which 
seemed to rive the spectator. His action became graceful, 
bold and commanding; and in the tones of his voice, but 
more especially in his emphasis, there was a peculiar 
charm, a magic of which any one who ever heard him 
will speak as soon as he is named, but of which no one 
can give an adequate description. They can only say that 
it struck upon the ear and upon the heart, in a manner 
which language can not tell. Add to all these, his wonder- 
working fancy, and the peculiar phraseology in which he 
clothed its images; for he painted to the heart with a force 
that almost petrified it. In the language of those who 
heard him on this occasion, ' he made their blood run cold, 
and their hair to rise on end."* 

" It will not be difficult for any one who ever heard this 
most extraordinary man, to believe the whole account of 
this transaction, which is given by his surviving hearers; 
and from their account, the court-house of Hanover 
county must have exhibited on this occasion, a scene as 
picturesque, as has ever been witnessed in real life. They 
say that the people, whose countenance had fallen, as he 
arose, had heard but a very few sentences before they 
began to look up; then to look at each other with surprise, 
as if doubting the evidence of their own senses; then, 
attracted by some strong gesture, struck by some majestic 
attitude, fascinated by the spell of his eye, the charm of 
his emphasis, and the varied and commanding expression 
of his countenance, they could look away no more. In 



PATRICK HENRY. 317 

less than twenty minutes, they might be seen in every part 
of the house, on every bench, in every window, stooping 
forward from their stands, in deathlike silence; their 
features fixed in amazement and awe; all their senses 
listening and riveted upon the speaker, as if to catch the 
last strain of some heavenly visitant. The mockery of 
the clergy was soon turned into alarm; their triumph into 
confusion and despair; and at one burst of his rapid and 
overwhelming invective, they fled from the bench in pre- 
cipitation and terror. As for the father, such was his sur- 
prise, such his amazement, such his rapture, that, forgetting 
where he was, and the character which he was filling, tears 
of ecstacy streamed down his cheeks, without the power 
or inclination to repress them. 

" The jury seem to have been so completely bewildered, 
that they lost sight, not only of the act of seventeen hund- 
red and forty-eight, but that of seventeen hundred and 
fifty-eight also; for thoughtless even of the admitted right 
of the plaintiff, they had scarcely left the bar, when they 
returned with a verdict of one penny damages. A motion 
was made for a new trial; but the court, too, had now lost 
the equipoise of their judgment, and overruled the motion 
by a unanimous vote. The verdict and judgment over- 
ruling the motion, were followed by redoubled acclama- 
tions, from within and without the house. 

" The people, who had with difficulty kept their hands 
off their champion, from the moment of closing his ha- 
rangue, no sooner saw the fate of the cause finally sealed, 
than they seized him at the bar, and in spite of his own 
exertions, and the continued cry of ( order ' from the 
sheriffs and the court, they bore him out of the court-house, 
and raising him on their shoulders, carried him about the 
yard, in a kind of electioneering triumph. 

" 0! what a scene was this for a father's heart! so sud- 
den; so unlooked for; so delightfully overwhelming! At 



3^ 3 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the time, he was not able to give utterance to any senti- 
ment; but, a few days after, when speaking of it to Mr. 
Winston (the present Judge Winston), he said, with the 
most engaging modesty, and with a tremor of voice which 
showed how much more he felt than he expressed, * Pat- 
rick spoke in this cause near an hour, and in a manner 
that surprised me ! and showed himself well-informed on 
a subject, of which I did not think he had any knowledge!' 

" I have tried much to procure a sketch of this cele- 
brated speech. But those of Mr. Henry's hearers who 
survive, seem to have been bereft of their senses. They 
can only tell you, in general, that they were taken cap- 
tive; and so delighted with their captivity, that they fol- 
lowed implicitly, withersoever he led them: that, at his 
bidding, their tears flowed from pity, and their cheeks 
flushed with indignation: that when it was over, they felt 
as if they had just awaked from some ecstatic dream, of 
which they were unable to recall or connect the particu- 
lars. It was such a speech as they believe had never be- 
fore fallen from the lips of man; and to this day, the old 
people of that county can not conceive that a higher com- 
pliment can be paid to a speaker, than to say of him, in 
their own homely phrase: — ' He is almost equal to Patrick, 
when he plead against the parsons.'' "* 

The eloquence of Mr. Henry on this occasion struck the 
people with amazement, and gained for him the most en- 
thusiastic applause. He was now regarded as one of the 
greatest orators of his country — rising suddenly to the 
summit of universal renown. " His sun had risen," says 
Mr. Wirt, " with a splendor which had never before been 
witnessed in this colony; and never afterward did it dis- 
grace this glorious rising." Such was the effect of Mr. 
Henry's eloquence on its first display, and yet a nobler 
triumph awaited him. 

* Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry. 



PATRICK HENRY. C19 

The chief glory of Mr. Henry's career, was the part 
which he took in the American Revolution. TMs event 
he was undoubtedly the means of hastening, Thomas 
Jefferson declared that Mr. Henry certainly gave the first 
impulse to the ball of the revolution. 

In January, 1765, the famous Stamp Act, was passed by 
the British Parliament. The storm of the Revolution 
which was soon to burst on the colonies, now began to 
thicken. At this crisis, Patrick Henry came forward to 
sound the alarm — to prepare his countrymen for the ter- 
rible approach — to arouse them to a sense of their duty, 
and to lead them to resist the aggressions of the British 
Government. 

In the month of May, 1765, Mr. Henry was elected a 
member of the house of burgesses, and now the first notes 
of his lofty, patriotic eloquence began to fall on the ear, 
and to animate the heart of a desponding nation. On a 
blank leaf of an old law book, " unadvised, and unas- 
sisted," he wrote the five famous resolutions of 1765, 
against the Stamp Act, and against the right of the British 
Parliament to tax the American colonies. On offering 
them to the House, they met with violent opposition. 

"The debate," in the forcible language of Jefferson, 
" was most bloody," but torrents of sublime, irresistible 
eloquence from Henry prevailed, and the resolutions were 
carried by a small majority. It was then that Mr. Henry 
put forth his great strength, seized, demolished, and tram 
pled under foot the arguments of his opponents. " The 
cords of argument, with which his adversaries frequently 
flattered themselves that they had bound him fast, became 
pack-threads in his hands. He burst them with as much 
ease as the unshorn Samsor did the bands of the Philis- 
tines. He seized the pillars of the temple, shook them 
terribly, and seemed to threaten his opponents with ruin. 
It was an incessant storm of lightning and thunder, which 



320 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

struck them aghast. The faint-hearted gathered courage 
from his countenance, and cowards became heroes while 
they gazed upon his exploits." 

His powers increased in proportion to the magnitude of 
his theme. His eloquence never assumed a loftier tone. 
He summoned all his energies for a terrible blow — a stroke 
that should be felt in the court of England, and resound 
through all time. At length it fell. It was on this ever- 
memorable occasion that Henry electrified the house by a 
burst of intrepid eloquence unsurpassed in the annals of 
ancient or modern oratory. 

" It was in the midst of this magnificent debate, while 
he was descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious act, 
that he exclaimed in a voice of thunder, and with the 
look of a god: — ' Csgsar had his Brutus — Charles the 
First, his Cromwell — and George the Third'* — (' Treason,' 
cried the speaker — ' Treason, treason!' echoed from every 
part of the house. It was one of those trying moments 
which is decisive of character. Henry faltered not lor 
an instant; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on 
the speaker an eye of the most determined fire, he finished 
his sentence with the firmest emphasis) — ' may profit by 
their example. If this be treason, make the most of it.' " 

On the 4th of September, 1774, the old Continental 
Congress met at Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia. Among 
the delegates from Virginia, were Peyton Randolph, 
Richard Henry Lee, George Washington, Richard Bland, 
Benjamin Harrison, Edmund Pendleton, and Patrick 
Henry. A nobler set of men never assembled in any land 
to erect and display the proud standard of liberty. Here 
the patriotic eloquence of Mr. Henry shone in its purest 
luster. Here it burst forth with irresistible power. The 
long silence which followed on the organization of that 

* If Philip of Macedon formed the character of Demosthenes, George III 
may be said to have moulded that of Patrick Henry. 



PATRICK HENRY. 321 

august body was first broken by the thunders of Henry's 
undaunted oratoiy. " In the midst of this deep and death* 
like silence, and just when it was beginning to become 
painfully embarrassing, Mr. Henry rose slowly, as if borne 
down by the weight of the subject. After faltering, ac- 
cording to his habit, through a most impressive exordium, 
iu which he merely echoed back the consciousness of 
every other heart, in deploring his inability to do justice 
to the occasion, he launched gradually into a recital of 
the colonial wrongs. Rising, as he advanced, with the 
grandeur of his subject, and glowing at length with all 
the majesty and expectation of the occasion, his speech 
seemed more than that of mortal man. 

" Even those who had heard him in all his glory, in the 
house of burgesses of Virginia, were astonished at the 
manner in which his talents seemed to swell and expand 
themselves, to fill the vaster theater in which he was now 
placed. There was no rant — no rhapsody — no labor of 
the understanding — no straining of the voice — no con- 
fusion of the utterance. His countenance was erect — his 
eye, steady — his action, noble — his enunciation, clear 
and firm — his mind poised on its center — his views of 
his subject comprehensive and great — and his imagination 
coruscating with a magnificence and a variety, which 
struck even that assembly with amazement and awe. He 
sat down amid murmurs of astonishment and applause; 
and as he had been before proclaimed the greatest orator 
of Virginia, he was now, on every hand, admitted to be 
the first orator of America." 

On the 20th of March, 1775, the Virginia Convention of 
delegates assembled in the " Old Church "* at Richmond. 

* " Hallowed are the associations connected with that venerable church in 

Richmond! Often has the writer sought its precincts alonp, and pondered there 

on the scene when, within the walls yet standing, Henry, as the embodiment 

of the Revolution aryl all its sublime results, rose like one inspired, and de- 

41 



S22 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

It was on this occasion that Mr. Henry delivered that Im- 
mortal speech which has furnished thousands of Ameri- 
can youths with a patriotic theme for scholastic declama- 
tion. The report of this speech is th3 best specimen that 
we possess of Mr. Henry's style. It is an effort that will 
never be forgotten in the annals of oratory. He rose at 
this time with a majesty unusual to him in an exordium, 
and with all that self-possession by which he was^so in- 
variably distinguished. " No man," he said, " thought 
more highly than he did of the patriotism, as well as 
abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who had just 
addressed the house. But different men often saw the 
same subject in different lights; and, therefore, he hoped 
it would not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, 
if, entertaining as lie did, opinions of a character very 
opposite to theirs, he should speak forth his sentiments 
freely, and without reserve. 

" This," he said, " was no time for ceremony. The 
question before this house was one of awful moment to 
the country. For his own part he considered it as nothing 
less than a question of freedom or slavery. And in pro- 
portion to the magnitude of the subject, ought to be the 
freedom of the debate. It was only in this way that they 
could hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great respon- 
sibility which they held to God and their country. Should 
he keep back his opinions at such a time, through fear of 
giving offense, he should consider himself as guilty of 
treason toward his country, and of an act of disloyalty 
toward the Majesty of heaven, which he revered above all 
earthly kings. 

" Mr. President," said he, " it is natural to man to in- 
dulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our 
eyes against a painful truth — and listen to the song of 

livered that speech ur.equaled in the history of man, ending with the orni* 
r.ous words. ' Gii, ; nj liberty, or give me death.' — Masoon. 



PATRICK HENRY. 323 

that siren, till she transform us into beasts. Is this the 
part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle 
for liberty? Were we disposed to be of the number of 
those, who having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear 
not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal 
salvation? For his part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
might cost, he was willing to know the whole truth; to 
know the worst, and to provide for it. 

" He had," he said, " but one lamp by which his feet 
were guided; and that w r as the lamp of experience. He 
knew of no way of judging of the future but by the past. 
And judging by the past, he wished to know what there 
had been in the conduct of the British ministry for the 
last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen 
had been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is 
it that insidious smile with which our petition has been 
lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare 
to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a 
kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our 
petition comports with those warlike preparations which 
cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and 
armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? 
Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 
that force must be called in to win back our love? Let 
us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
of war and subjugation — the last arguments to which 
kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this mar- 
tial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? 
Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? 
Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, 
to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? 
No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can 
be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and 
rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry 
have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose 



324 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying 
that for the last ten years. Have we any thing new to 
offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the sub- 
ject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has 
been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble 
supplication? What terms shall we find, which have not 
been already exhausted. Let us not, I beseech you, Sir, 
deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything 
that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming 
on. We have petitioned — we have remonstrated — we 
have supplicated — we have prostrated ourselves before 
the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest 
the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our 
petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have pro- 
duced additional violence and insult; our supplications 
have been disregarded; an^ we have been spurned, with 
contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after 
these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and 
reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. 
If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate 
those inestimable privileges for which we have been so 
long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the 
noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and 
which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until 
the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained! we 
must fight! — I repeat it, Sir, we must fight! An appeal 
to arms and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us!" 

After he had finished his speech and taken his seat, no 
murmur of applause was heard. The effect was too deep. 
After the trance of a moment, several members started 
from their seats. The cry, ' to arms !' seemed to quiver on 
every lip, and gleam from every eye. Richard Henry Lee* 

* Mr Wirt, in contemplating some of the "stars of the first magnitude' 
that shone in the House of Burgesses in the year 116') thus writes: u Richard 
Henry Lee was the Cicero of the house. His face itself was on the Roman 



PATRICK HENRY. 325 

arose and supported Mr. Henry, with his usual spirit and 
elegance. But his melody was lost amid the .agitations of 
that ocean, which the master-spirit of the storm had lifted 
up on high. That supernatural voice still sounded in 
their ears, and shivered along their arteries. They heard, 
in every pause, the cry of liberty or death. They became 
impatient of speech, their souls were on fire for action." 

During the Revolutionary war, Mr. Henry performed 
many efficient services for his suffering country. On the 
adoption of the constitution of Virginia in 1776, he was 
chosen the first republican governor of the state. In the 
two following years he was re-elected to the same office. 
After declining a third re-election as governor in 1779, 
he was returned to the state legislature. Here he con- 
tinued for several years to display his unrivaled powers 
of oratory. Conspicuous among other measures which he 
so eloquently advocated, was the return of the British 
fugitives after the close of the war. In sustaining this 
measure, Mr. Henry uttered a prediction of the future 
greatness and glory of America, which we see amply ac- 
complished. Take the following passages as a specimen of 
his eloquence: 

model; his nose Caesarean; the port and carriage of his head, leaning persua- 
sively and gracefully forward; and the whole contour noble and fine. Mr. 
Lee was, by far, the most elegant scholar in the house. He had studied the 
classics in the true spirit of criticism. His taste had that delicate touch, which 
seized with intuitive certainty every beauty of an author, and his genius that 
native affinity which combined them without an effort. Into every walk of 
literature and science, he had carried this mind of exquisite selection, and 
brought it back to the business of life, crowned with every light of learning, 
and decked with every wreath, that all the muses and all the graces could 
entwine. His defect was, that he was too smooth and too sweet. His style 
bore a striking resemblance to that of Herodotus, as described by the Roman 
,>rat~r: ' He flowed on, like a quiet and placid river, without a ripple.' He 
flawed, too, through banks covered with all the fresh verdure and variegated 
blcom of the spring; but his course was too subdued, and too beautifully regu- 
lar. A cataract, like that of Niagara, crowned with overhanging rocks aod 



326 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" I venture to prophesy, there are those now living who 
will see this favored land amongst the most powerful on 
earth, — able, Sir, to take care of herself, without resort- 
ing to that policy, which is always so dangerous, though 
sometimes unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid. Yes, 
Sir, they will see her great in arts and in arms, — her 
golden harvests waving over fields of immeasurable ex- 
tent, her commerce penetrating the most distant seas, and 
her cannon silencing the vain boasts of those who now 
proudly affect to rule the waves. But, Sir, you must have 
men, — you can not get along without them. Those heavy 
forests of valuable timber, under which your lands are 
groaning, must be cleared away. Those vast riches which 
cover the face of your soil, as well as those which lie hid 
in its bosom, are to be developed and gathered only by the 
skill and enterprise of men. Your timber, Sir, must be 
worked up into ships, to transport the productions of the 
soil from which it has been cleared. Then, you must have 
commercial men and commercial capital, to take off your 
productions, and find the best markets for them abroad. 
Your great want, Sir, is the want of men; and these you 
must have, and will have speedily, if you are wise. 

mountains, in all the rude and awful grandeur of nature, would have brought 
him nearer to the standard of Homer and of Henry. 

Mr. Wirt again speaks of Mr. Lee in the old Congress as " charming the 
House with an eloquence — chaste — classical — beautiful — his polished 
periods rolling along without effort, filling the ear with the most bewitching 
harmony, and delighting the mind with the mos-t exquisite imagery. The 
cultivated graces of Mr. Lee^ rhetoric received and at the same time reflected 
beauty, by their contrast with the wild and grand effusions of Mr. Henry. 
Just its those noble monuments of art which lie scattered through the celebrat- 
ed landscape of Naples, at once adorn, and are in their turn adorned by the 
surrounding majesty of Nature. 

" Two models of eloquence, each so perfect in its kind, and so finely con- 
trasted, could not but fill the house with the highest admiration; and as Mr. 
Henry had before been pronounced the Demosthenes, it was conceded on every 
hand, that Mr. Lee was the Cicero of America. 



PATRICK HENRY. 327 

""Do you ask how you are to get them? Open your 
doors, Sir, and they will come in! The population of 
the Old World is full to overflowing. That population is 
ground, too, by the oppressions of the Governments under 
which they live. Sir, they are already standing on tiptoe 
upon their native shores, and looking to your coasts with 
a wistful and longing eye. They see here a land blessed 
with natural and political advantages, which are not 
equaled by those of any other country upon earth; — a 
land on which a gracious Providence hath emptied the 
horn of abundance, — a land over which Peace hath now 
stretched forth her white wings, and where Content and 
Plenty lie down at every door.' 

" Sir, they see something still more attractive than all 
this. They see a land in which Liberty hath taken up her 
abode, — that Liberty whom they had considered as a 
fabled goddess, existing only in the fancies of poets. They 
see her here a real divinity, — her altars rising on every 
hand, throughout these happy States; her glories chanted 
by three millions of tongues, and the whole region smiling 
under her blessed influence. Sir, let but this, our celestial 
goddess, Liberty, stretch forth her fair hand toward the 
People of the Old World, — tell them to come, and bid 
them welcome, — and you will see them pouring in from 
the North, from the South, from the East* and from the 
W T est. Your wilderness will be cleared and settled, your 
deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and you will 
soon be in a condition to defy the powers of any ad- 
versary. 

" But, Gentlemen, object to any accession from Great 
Britain, and particularly to the return of the British refu- 
gees Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those deluded 
people. They have, to be sure, mistaken their own inter- 
ests most wofully; and most wofully have they suffered the 
punishment due to their offences. But the relations which 



328 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

we bear to them, and to their native country, are now 
changed. Their King hath acknowledged our indepen- 
dence; the quarrel is over; peace hath returned, and found 
us a free People. Let us have the magnanimity, Sir, to 
lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and consider the 
subject in a political light. Those are an enterprising, 
moneyed people. They will be serviceable in taking off 
the surplus produce of our lands, and supplying us with 
necessaries, during the infant state of our manufactures. 
Even if they be inimical to us in point of feeling and 
principle, I can see no objection, in a political view, in 
making them tributary to our advantage. And, as I have 
no prejudices to prevent my making this use of them, so 
Sir. I have no fear of any mischief that they can do us. 
Afraid of them! — What Sir, shall we, who have laid the 
proud British lion at our feet, now be afraid of his whelps? 9 ' 

In 1784, Mr. Henry was again chosen Governor of Vir- 
ginia. In 1788, he was a member of the Virginia conven- 
tion which met at Richmond to consider the Constitution 
of the United States. Mr. Henry put forth all his intel- 
lectual resources against its adoption; but his powerful 
efforts were unavailing. Unhappily, he advocated the 
wrong side of the question. But his motives for doing so 
were, doubtless, pure and patriotic. 

In 1796, Mr. Henry was once more chosen Governor of 
Virginia, but declined the office. . In the spring of 1799, 
feeling it to be his duty to offer himself as a candidate for 
the State Legislature he was triumphantly elected, but did 
not live to take his seat again in that body. 

On the 6th of June, 1799, the great orator and statesman 
of Hanover was no more — the spirit of Patrick Henry 
had passed " like the anthem of a breeze away."* 

* The following noble sentiment is in the closing paragraph of the will of 
Patrick Henry: "I have now disposed of all my property to my family; 
there is one th ; .ng more I wish I could give them, and that is The Christian 



PATRICK HENRY. 329 

No one has so graphically delineated Mr. Henry's ora- 
torical character as the eloquent Wirt. No student of 
oratory can peruse the following sketch without profit. 
No one can turn to it too frequently: 

" It was on qnestions before a jury, that Mr. Henry was 
in his natural element. There, his intimate knowledge of 
human nature, and the rapidity as well as justness of his 
inferences, from the flitting expressions of the counte- 
nance, as to what was passing in the hearts of his hearers, 
availed him fully. The jury might be composed of entire 
strangers, yet he rarely failed to know them, man by man, 
before the evidence was closed. There was no studied 
fixture of features that could long hide the character from 
his piercing and experienced view. The slightest un- 
guarded turn of countenance, or motion of the eye, let 
him at once into the soul of the man whom he was ob- 
serving. Or, if he doubted whether his conclusions were 
correct, from the exhibitions of countenance during the 
narration of the evidence, he had a mode of playing a 
prelude, as it were, upon the jury, in his exordium, which 
never failed to ' wake into life each silent string,' and show 
him the whole compass as well as pitch of the instrument; 
and, indeed (if we may believe all the concurrent accounts 
of his exhibitions in the general court), the most exquisite 
performer that ever ' swept the sounding lyre ' had not 
more a sovereign mastery over its powers, than Mr. Henry 
had over the springs of feeling and thought that belong to 
a jury. There was a delicacy, a taste, a felicity in his 
touch, that was perfectly original, and without a rival. 
His style of address, on these occasions, is said to have 
resembled very much that of the Scriptures. It was 
strongly marked with the same simplicity, the sama energy, 

Religion. If they had this, and I had not given them one shilling, they 
would be rich-, and if they had not that, and I gave them all the world, tney 
would be poor." 

42 



33^ ORATORS AND STATESxMEN. 

the same pathos. He sounded no alarm; he made no 
parade, to put the jury on their guard. It was all so 
natural; so humble, so unassuming, that they *vere carried 
imperceptibly along, and attuned to his purpose, until some 
master-touch dissolved them into tears. His language of 
passion was perfect. There was no word ( of learned 
length or thundering sound,' to break the charm. It had 
almost all the stillness of solitary thinking. It was a 
sweet revery, a delicious trance. His voice, too, had a won- 
derful effect. He had a singular power of infusing it into 
a jury, and mixing its notes with their nerves, in a manner 
which it is impossible to describe justly; but which pro- 
duced a thrilling excitement, in the happiest concordance 
with his designs.* No man knew so well as he did what 
kind of topics to urge to their understandings; nor what 
kind of simple imagery to present to their hearts. His 
eye, which he kept riveted upon them, assisted the pro- 
cess of fascination, and at the same time informed him 

* An amusing incident which well exhibits , the power that Mr. Henry 
possessed over a court by the spell of his eloquence is related by Mr. Wirt. 
It shows, in a forcible manner, what effect genuine, popular eloquence pro- 
duces upon the mind. The case is that of John Hook: u Hook was a 
Scotchman, a man of wealth, and suspected of being unfriendly to the Ameri- 
can cause. During the distresses of the American army, consequent on the 
joint invasion of Cornwallis and Phillips in seventeen hundred and eighty-one, 
a Mr. Venable, an army commissary, had taken two of Hook's steers for the 
use of the troops. The act had not been strictly legal; and on the establish- 
ment of peace, Hook, under the advice of Mr. Cowan, a gentleman of some 
distinction in the law, thought proper to bring an action of trespass against 
Mr. Venable, in the district court of New London. Mr. Henry appeared for 
the defendant, and is said to have disported himself in this cause to the infinite 
enjoyment of his hearers, the unfortunate Hook always excepted. After Mr. 
Henry became animated in the cause, says a correspondent (Judge Stuart), he 
appeared to have complete control over the passions of his audience: atone 
time he excited their indignation against Hook: vengeance was visible in 
every countenance: again when he chose to relax and ridicule him, the whole 
audience was in a roar of laughter. Pie painted the distress of the American 
army, exposed almost naked to the rigor of a winter's sky. and marking the 



PATRICK HENRY. 331 

what theme to press, or at what instant to retreat, if by 
rare accident he touched an unpropitious string. And 
then he had such an exuberance of appropriate thoughts, 
of apt illustrations, of apposite images, and such a melo- 
dious and varied roll of the happiest words, that the 
hearer was never wearied by repetition, and never winced 
from an apprehension that the intellectual treasures of the 
speaker would be exhausted. 

" His features were manly, bold, and well-proportioned, 
full of intelligence, and adapting themselves intuitively 
to every sentiment of his mind, and every feeling of his 
heart. His voice was not remarkable for its sweetness* 
but it was firm, of full volume, and rather melodious than 
otherwise. Its charms consisted in the mellowness and 
fullness of its note, the ease and variety of its inflections, 
the distinctness of its articulation, the fine effect of its 
emphasis, the felicity with which it attuned itself to every 
emotion, and the vast compass which enabled it to range 

frozen ground over which they marched, with the blood of their unshod feet — 
' where was the man,' he said, ' who had an American heart in his bosom, who 
would not have thrown open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the doors of his 
house, the portals of his breast, to have received with open arms, the meanest 
soldier in that little band of famished patriots? Where is the man? — There 
he stands — but whether the heart of an American beats in his bosom, you, 
gentlemen, are to judge. 1 He then carried the jury, by the powers of his 
imagination, to the plains around York, the surrender of which had followed 
shortly after the act complained of: he depicted the surrender in the most 
glowing and noble colors of his eloquence — the audience saw before their 
eyes the humiliation and dejection of the British, as they marched out of their 
trenches — they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriot face, and 
heard the shouts of victory, and the cry of Washington and liberty as it rung 
and echoed through the American rank, and was reverberated from the hills 
and shores of the neighboring river — 'but hark! what notes of discord are 
these which disturb the general joy, and silence the acclamations of victory — 
they are the notes of John Hook, hoarsely brawling through the American 
ca np, beef! beef! beef! ' 

The whole audience were convulsed: a particular incident will give a better 
id«»a of the effect, than any general description. The clerk of tho "ourt, 



£32 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

through the whole empire of human passion, from the deep 
and tragic half whisper of horror, to the wildest exclama- 
tion of overwhelming rage. In mild persuasion, it was 
as soft and gentle as the zephyr of spring; while in rous- 
ing his countrymen to arms, the winter storm that roars 
along the troubled Baltic, was not more awfully sublime. 
It was at all times perfectly under his command; or rather, 
indeed, it seemed to command itself and to modulate its 
notes, most happily to the sentiment he was uttering. It 
never exceeded, or fell short of the occasion. There was 
none of that long-continued and deafening vociferation, 
which always takes place, when an ardent speaker has lost 
possession of himself — no monotonous clangor, no dis- 
cordant shriek. Without being strained, it had that body 
and enunciation which filled the most distant ear, without 
distressing those which were nearest him: hence it never 
became cracked or hoarse, even in his longest speeches, 
but retained to the last all its clearness and fullness of 
intonation, all the delicacy of its inflection, all the charms 
of its emphasis, and enchanting variety of its cadence 
" His delivery was perfectly natural and well-timed. It 

unable to command himself, and unwilling to commit any breach of decorum 
in his place, rushed out of the court-house, and threw himself on the grass, in 
the' most violent paroxysm of laughter, where he was rolling, when Hook, with 
very different feelings, came out for relief into the yard also. ; Jemmy Step- 
toe,' said he to the clerk, ' what the devil ails ye, raon?' Mr. Steptoe was 
only able to say that he could not help it. ' Never mind ye, 1 said Hook, ' wait 
till Billy Cowan gets up; hell show him the laV Mr. Cowan, however was 
so completely overwhelmed by the torrent which bore upon his client, that 
when he rose to reply to Mr. Henry, he was scarcely able to make an intelli- 
gible or audible remark. The cause was decided almost by acclamation. The 
jury retired for form sake, and instantly returned with a verdict for the de- 
fendant. Nor did the effect of Mr. Henry's speech stay here. The people 
■were so highly excited by the tory audacity of such a suit, that Hook began 
to hear around him a cry more terrible than that of beef,- it was the cry of I it 
and feathers: from the application of which it is said, that nothing saved him 
but a precipitate flight and the speed of his horse." 



PATRICK HENRI 333 

has indeed been said, that, on his first vising, there was a 
species of sub-cantus very observable by a stranger, and 
rather disagreeable to him; but that in a very few mo- 
ments even this itself became agreeable, and seemed, in- 
deed, indispensable to the full effect of his peculiar dic- 
tion and conceptions. In point of time, he was very happy: 
there was no slow and heavy dragging, no quaint and 
measured drawling, with equidistant pace, no stumbling 
and floundering among the fractured members of deranged 
and broken periods, no undignified hurry and trepidation, 
no recalling and recasting of sentences as he went along, 
no retraction of one word and substitution of another 
not better, and none of those affected bursts of almost in- 
articulate impetuosity, which betray the rhetorician rather 
than display the orator. On the contrary, ever self-col- 
lected, deliberate and dignified, he seemed to have looked 
through the whole period before he commenced its delivery; 
and hence his delivery was smooth, and firm, and well- 
accented ; slow enough to take along with him the dullest 
hearer, and yet so commanding, that the quick had neither 
the power nor the disposition to get the start of him. 
Thus he gave to every thought its full and appropriate 
force; and to every image all its radiance and beauty. 

" No speaker ever understood better than Mr. Henry the 
true use and power of the pause: and no on-^ ever prac- 
ticed it with happier effect. His pauses were never resorted 
to for the purpose of investing an insignificant thought 
with false importance; much less were they ever resorted 
to as & finesse to gain time for thinking. The hearer was 
never disposed to ask, ' why that pause?' nor to measure 
its duration by a reference to his watch. On the contrary, 
it always came at the very moment when he would him- 
self have wished it, in order to weigh the striking and im- 
portant thought which had just been uttered; and the 
interval was always filled by the speaker with a matchless 



334 ORATORS AND STATESxMEN. 

energy of look, which drove the thought home through the 
mind and through the heart. 

" His gesture, and this varying play of his features and 
voice, were so excellent, so exquisite that many have re- 
ferred his power as an orator principally to thai; cause; 
yet this was all his own, and his gesture, particularly, of 
so peculiar a cast, that it is said it would have become no 
other man. I do not learn that it was very abundant; for 
there was no trash about it; none of those false motions 
to which undisciplined speakers are so generally addicted; 
no chopping nor sawing of the air; no thumping of the 
bar to express an earnestness which was much more 
powerfully, as well as more elegantly expressed by his eye 
and countenance. Whenever he moved his arm, or his 
hand, or even his finger, or changed the position of his 
body, it was always to some purpose; nothing was ineffi- 
cient; r,very thing told; every gesture, every attitude, 
every look was emphatic; all was animation, energy, and 
dignity. Its great advantage consisted in this — that va- 
rious, bold, and original as it was, it never appeared to be 
studied, affected, or theatrical, or ' to overstep,' in the 
smallest degree, 'the modesty of nature;' for he never 
made a gesture, or assumed an attitude, which did not 
seem imperiously demanded by the occasion. Every 
look, every motion, every pause, every start was completely 
filled and dilated by the thought which he was uttering, 
and seemed indeed to form a part of the thought itself 
His action, however strong, was never vehement. He was 
never seen rushing forward, shoulder foremost, fury in his 
countenance, and phrensy in his voice as if to overturn 
the bar, and charge his audience, sword in hand. His 
judgment was too manly and too solid, and his taste too 
true, to permit him to indulge in any such extravagance. 
His good sense and his self-possession never deserted him. 
In theh adest storm of declamation, in the fiercest blaze 



PATRICK HENRY. 335 

of passion, there was a dignity and temperance which 
gave it seeming. He had the rare faculty of imparting to 
his hearers' all the excess of his own feelings, and all the 
violence and tumult of his emotions, all the dauntless 
spirit of his resolution, and all the energy of his soul, 
without any sacrifice of his own personal dignity, and 
without treating his hearers otherwise than as rational 
beings. He was not the orator of a day; and therefore 
sought not to build his fame on the sandy basis of a false 
taste fostered, if not created, by himself. He spoke for 
immortality; and therefore raised the pillars of his glory 
on the only solid foundation — the rock of Nature. 

" His feelings were strong, yet completely under his 
command; they rose up to the occasion, but were never 
suffered to overflow it; his language was often careless, 
sometimes incorrect; yet upon the whole it was pure and 
perspicuous, giving out his thoughts in full and clear pro- 
portion; free from affectation, and frequently beautiful; 
strong without effort, and adapted to the occasion; nervous 
in argument, burning in passion, and capable of matching 
the loftiest flights of his genius. 

"It may perhaps assist the reader's conception of Mr. 
Henry's peculiar cast of eloquence, to state the points in 
which he differed from some other orators. Those which dis- 
tinguished him from Mr. Lee have been already exhibited. 
Colonel Innis's manner was also very different. His 
habitual indolence followed him into debate; he generally 
contented himself with a single view of his subject; but 
that was given with irresistible power His eloquence was 
indeed a mighty and a roaring torrent; it had not, how- 
ever, that property of Horace's stream, labitur ct labetur^ 
in ojnne volubilu cevutti--- on the contrary, it commonly ran 
by in half an hour. But it bore a striking resemblance to 
th'- eloquence of Lord Chatham.; it was a short but bold 
ana most terrible assault — a vehement, impetuous and 



335 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

overwhelming burst — a magnificent meteor, which shot 
majestically across the heavens, from pole to pole, and 
straight expired in a glorious blaze. 

" Mr* Henry, on the contrary, however indolent in his 
general life, was never so in debate, where the occasion 
called for exertion. He rose against the pressure, with 
the most unconquerable perseverance. He held his sub- 
ject up in every light in which it could be placed; yet 
always with so much power, and so much beauty, as never 
to weary his audience, but on the contrary to delight 
them. He had more art than Colonel Innis: he appealed 
to every motive of interest — urged every argument that 
could convince — pressed every theme of persuasion — 
awakened every feeling, and loused every passion to his 
aid. He had more variety, too, in his manner; sometimes 
he was very little above the tone of conversation; at others 
in the highest strain of epic sublimity. His course was 
of longer continuance — his flights better sustained, and 
more diversified, both in their direction, and velocity. He 
rose like the thunder-bearer of Jove, when he mounts on 
strong and untiring wing, to sport in fearless majesty over 
the troubled deep — now sweeping in immense and rapid 
circles — then suddenly arresting his grand career, and 
hovering aloft in tremulous and terrible suspense — at one 
instant, plunged amid the foaming waves — at the next, 
reascending on high, to play undaunted among the light- 
nings of heaven, or soar toward the sun. 

" He differed too, from those orators of Great Britain, 
with whom he had become acquainted by their printed 
speeches. He had not the close method and high polish of 
those of England; nor the exuberant imagery which dis- 
tinguishes those of Ireland. On the contrary, he was 
loose, irregular, desultory — sometimes rough and abrupt — 
careless in connecting the parts of his discourse, but grasp- 
ing whatever he touched with gigantic strength. In short, 



PATRICK HENRY. 337 

he was the Orator of Nature; and such a one as Nature 
might not blush to avow.* 

" If the reader shall still demand how he acquired those 
wonderful powers of speaking which have been assigned 
to him, we can only answer with Gray, that they were the 
gift of Heaven — the birthright of genius. 

1 Thine too, these keys, immortal boy! 
This can unlock the gates of joy; 
Of horror, that, and thrilling fears, 
Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. 7 

" It has been said of Mr. Henry, by Mr. John Randolph, 
of Roanoke., with inimitable felicity, that ' he was Shae> 
speare and Garrick coxMbined !' Let the reader then imagine 
the wonderful talents of those two men united in the same 
individual, and transferred from scenes of fiction to the 
business of real life, and he will have formed some con- 
ception of the eloquence of Patrick Henry. In a word, 
he was one of those perfect prodigies of Nature, of whom 
very few have been produced since the foundations of the 
earth were laid; and of him may it be said, as truly as of 
anyone that ever existed: — 

' He was a man, take him for all in all, 
We ne'er shall look upon his like again.' 1 " 

* For the fullest account of the life and character of Patrick Henry the reader 
is referred to his admirable biography, by William Wirt. Every one should 
procure a copy of this beautiful and interesting work. Every American citi- 
zen. — every lover of his country — should, by all means, read it. No library, 
public or private, can be considered complete without containing a copy. 

43 



CHAPTER XIV. 



FISHER AMES. 

Fisher Ames was born on the 9th of April, 175S, at 
Dedham, Massachusetts. He was the youngest son of Dr. 
Nathaniel Ames. When but six years old, Fisher com- 
menced the study of Latin. In 1770, at the age of twelve, 
he was admitted to Harvard College, and graduated in 
1774. 

After receiving his degree, he devoted considerable 
time, before entering on his professional course, to the 
study of English literature. About this time, as he fre- 
quently said, he read with avidity bordering on enthusi- 
asm almost every author within his reach. He read works 
on Greek and Roman antiquities, ancient mythology, 
natural and civil history. He w f as passionately fond of 
poetry — he read the principal English poets, and like 
Erskine, devoted himself with the greatest ardor to the 
study of Milton and Shakspeare, committing their most 
magnificent passages to memory. He studied Virgil with 
the greatest delight; and, at this time, could repeat con- 
siderable portions of the Eclogues, Georgics, and the most 
beautiful passages of the iEneid. 

Several years after graduating, he commenced the study 
of law in the office of Judge Tudor. In 1781, he began 
the practice of his profession at Dedham, his native place. 
In 1788. he was elected to Congress for Suffolk county. 
During the eight years of Washington's glorious adminis- 



FISHER AMES. 339 

tration he remained in Congress, displaying such trans- 
cendent powers of eloquence as had scarcely ever been 
witnessed in our young republic. 

In the discussion of all the great measures which w T ere 
brought before Congress during that eventful period, Mr. 
Ames took a prominent part. On Madison's resolutions — 
on the British treaty — on the manner in which the public 
debt was to be disposed of — on the regulations required 
by commerce — on the neutrality to be preserved with 
regard to France — on the settlement of the difficulties 
with Spain and Great Britain — on all these and similar 
important themes, Mr. Ames spoke with persuasive and 
irresistible power. His speeches on Mr. Madison's resolu- 
tion and the British treaty claim our particular attention. 
They afford the best specimens of his style. The latter 
was the most extraordinary and brilliant effort of his 
genius. The importance of the subject under considera- 
tion, and the strength of the opposition, roused him to the 
utmost exertion, and called forth a lofty strain of eloquence 
that has seldom been equaled in parliamentary debate. 
It is stated that during the delivery of this speech, a 
crowded house listened with profound attention to the 
thrilling remarks of the orator; and when, in the conclu- 
sion, he alluded in a touching manner " to his own slen- 
der and almost broken hold upon life." the audience were 
moved to tears. As he took his seat, the question was 
loudly called for; but the opposition dreaded the effects 
of a speech so hostile to their views, and one of its mem- 
bers moved that the decision of the question be postponed 
to the ensuing day, lest they should act under the influence 
of feelings which their calm judgment might condemn. 

A similar effect was produced by the eloquence of the 
immortal Sheridan when he concluded his great speech 
against Warren Hastings amidst the tumultuous and rap- 
turous applause of the British Senate* 



340 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

As well might you attempt to stop a mighty river in its 
course as to withstand the overwhelming force of genuine 
eloquence. It breaks through every barrier, wins its way 
to the heart, and leads the hearer a willing captive. Thus 
have all great orators enchained the hearts, enlisted tire 
attention, and controlled the passions of their hearers. 
Thus Demosthenes moved the Athenians, and thus Cicero 
delighted and transported the Roman commonwealth. 

The speech on the British treaty was delivered in the 
House of Representatives, on the 28 th of April, 1796, in 
support of the following motion: Resolved, That it is ex- 
pedient to pass the laws necessary to carry into effect the 
treaty lately concluded between the United States and the 
King of Great Britain. 

In this speech we have a powerful passage against sur- 
rendering the frontier posts, in which, by a stroke of his 
imagination, the orator brings before the eye the horrors 
of Indian warfare: 

" If any should maintain that the peace with the Indians 
will be stable without the posts, to them I will urge 
another reply. From arguments calculated to produce 
conviction, I will appeal directly to the hearts of those 
who hear me, and ask whether it is not already planted 
there? I resort especially to the convictions of the west- 
ern gentlemen, whether, supposing no posts and no treaty, 
the settlers will remain in security? Can they take it 
upon them to say, that an Indian peace under these cir- 
cumstances, will prov^e firm? No sir, it will not be peace, 
but a sword; it will be no better than a lure to draw vic- 
tims within the reach of the tomahawk. 

On this theme, my emotions are unutterable. If I could 
find words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to 
my zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remon- 
strance, it should reach every log-house beyond the mount- 
ains I would say to the inhabitants, wake froni your 



FISHER AMES. 341 

false security. Your cruel dangers, your more cruel appre- 
hensions are soon to be renewed: the wounds, yet unhealed, 
are to be torn open again. In the day-time your path 
through the woods will be ambushed. The darkness of 
midnight will glitter with the blaze of your dwellings. 
You are a father — the blood of your sons shall fatten 
your corn-field. You are a mother — the war-whoop shall 
wake the sleep of the cradle. 

" On this subject you need not suspect any deception 
on your feelings. It is a spectacle of horror which can 
not be overdrawn. If you have nature in your hearts, 
they will speak a language compared with which all I have 
said or can say, will be poor and frigid. Will it be whis- 
pered that the treaty has made me a new champion for the 
protection of the frontiers; it is known that my voice as 
well as vote has been uniformly given in conformity with 
the ideas I have expressed. Protection is the right of the 
frontiers; it is our duty to give it. 

" Who will accuse me of wandering out of the subject? 
Who will say that I exaggerate the tendencies of our mea- 
sures? Will any one answer by a sneer, that all this is 
idle preaching? Would any one deny that we are bound, 
and I would hope to good purpose, by the most solemn 
sanctions of duty for the vote we give? Are despots alone 
to be reproached for unfeeling indifference to the tears and 
blood of their subjects? Are republicans unresponsible? 
Have the principles on which you ground the reproach 
upon cabinets and kings no practical influence, no binding 
force? Are they merely themes of idle declamation, in- 
troduced to decorate the morality of a newspaper essay, 
or to furnish pretty topics of harangue from the windows 
of that state-house? I trust it is neither too presumptuous 
nor too late to ask, Can you put the dearest interest of 
society at risk, without guilt and without remorse? It is 
vain to offer as an excuse, that public men are not to be 



342 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

reproached for the evils that may happen to er.sue from 
their measures. This is very true, where they are unfore- 
seen or inevitable. Those I have depicted are not unfore- 
seen; they are so far from inevitable, we are going to 
bring them into being by our vote. We choose the con-' 
sequences, and become as justly answerable for them as for 
the measure that we know will produce them. 

" By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires, we 
bind the victims. This day we undertake to render ac- 
count to the widows and orphans whom our decision will 
make; — to the wretches that will be roasted at the stake; 
to our country, and I do not deem it too serious to say, to 
conscience and to God, we are answerable; and, if duty 
be anything more than a word of imposture, if conscience 
be not a bugbear, we are preparing to make ourselves as 
wretched as our country. 

" There is no mistake in this case. There can be none. 
Experience has already been the prophet of events, and 
the cries of our future victims have already reached us. 
The western inhabitants are not a silent and uncomplain- 
ing sacrifice. The voice of humanity issues from the 
shade of the wilderness. It exclaims, that while one hand 
is held up to reject this treaty, the other grasps a toma- 
hawk. It summons our imagination to the scenes that will 
open. It is no great effort of the imagination to conceive 
that events so near are already begun. I can fancy that I 
listen to the yells of savage vengeance, and the shrieks of 
torture ! Already they seem to sigh in the west wind ! Al- 
ready they mingle with every echo from the mountains /" 

In the spring of 1796, at the close of the Congressional 
session, Mr. Ames traveled in Virginia for the improve- 
ment of his health. It was then that the college of New- 
Jersey conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Laws. 

Notwithstanding the infirm state of his health, Mr. Ames 
attended the next session of Congress, and was chairman 



FISHER AMES. 343 

of the committee which prepared the answer to Washing- 
ton's speech. At the termination of the session, he retired 
to his private residence at Dedham, that he might enjoy 
repose in the bosom of his family after the storms of politi- 
cal life. 

When Washington died, Mr. Ames was called upon to 
pronounce his eulogy before the Legislature of Massachu- 
setts. It Avas among the last of his great oratorical efforts; 
and a noble one it was. On this occasion his eloquence 
shone with transcendent splendor. His sun was now soon, 
alas! too soon to set, and the western horizon seemed to 
be " in a blaze with his descending glory." It was a fitting 
close to such a brilliant career. 

His eulogy on Washington is a splendid production. 
In glowing language does the orator hold up his immortal 
hero as worthy the admiration and imitation of the pre- 
sent and succeeding generations. The speech abounds in 
beautiful figures and sentiments which fully exhibit the 
powerful imagination of the orator. As an excellent 
specimen of his descriptive and imaginative powers, we 
will take the following extract: 

" Great generals have arisen in all ages of the world, 
and perhaps most in those of despotism and darkness. In 
times of violence and convulsion, they rise, by 1he force 
of the whirlwind, high enough to ride in it, and direct the 
storm Like meteors, they glare on the black clouds with 
a splendor, which, while it dazzles and terrifies, makes 
nothing visible but the darkness. The fame of heroes is 
indeed growing vulgar; they multiply in every long war; 
they stand in history, and thicken in their ranks, almost as 
undistinguished as their own soldiers. 

" But such a chief magistrate as Washington appears 
like the pole-star in a clear sky, to direct the skillful states- 
man. His Presidency will form an epoch, and be distin- 
guished as the age of Washington. Already it assumes its 



344 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

high place in the political region. Like the milky way, it 
whitens along its alotted portion of the hemisphere. The 
latest generations of men will survey, through the tele- 
scope of history, the space where so many virtues blend 
their rays, and delight to separate them into groups and 
distinct virtues. As the best illustration of them, the 
living monument, to which the first of patriots would have 
chosen to consign his fame, it is my earnest prayer to 
heaven, that our country may subsist, even to that late 
day, in the plenitude of its liberty and happiness, and 
mingle its mild glory with Washington's." 

On the mournful death of Alexander Hamilton,* in 
1804, Mr. Ames wrote a glowing sketch of his character, 
which was read to a select company of friends, and first 
published in the Repertory, July, 1804. As a specimen of 
his elaborate composition, no finer example can be pro- 
duced than the following from this sketch: 

" It is rare that a man, who owes so much to nature, 
descends to seek more from industry ; but he seemed to 
depend on industry, as if nature had done nothing for him. 
His habits of investigation were very remarkable ; his 
mind seemed to cling to his subject, till it had exhausted 
it. Hence the uncommon superiority of his reasoning 
powers, a superiority that seemed to be augmented from 
every source, and to be fortified by every auxiliary, learn- 
ing, taste, wit, imagination, and eloquence. These were 
embellished and enforced by his temper and manners, by 
his fame and his virtues. It is difficult, in the midst of 

* Alexander Hamilton was one of the most commanding orators that shone 
in our national councils immediately after the adoption of the federal govern 
ment. It is to be regretted that so few specimens of his electrifying eloquence 
remain. " Our opinion of Hamilton's eloquence must rest mainly on the tes- 
timony of those who heard him. His speeches, as they have come to us, do 
not correspond with our impressions of his remarkable powers. Great and 
eloquent beyond most, if not all men of his day, he certainly was, if we may 
believe the concurrent statements of friends and foes." 



FISHER AMES. 345 

such various excellence, to say in what particular the 
effect of his greatness was most manifest. No man more? 
promptly discerned truth; no man more clearly displayed 
it: it was not merely made visible — it seemed to come 
bright with illumination from his lips. But prompt and 
clear as he was, fervid as Demosthenes, like Cicero, full of 
resource, he was not less remarkable for copiousness and 
completeness of his argument, and left little for cavil, and 
nothing for doubt. Some men take their strongest argu- 
ment as a weapon, and use no other; but he left nothing 
to be inquired for more — nothing to be answered. He 
no: only disarmed his adversaries of their pretexts and 
objections, but he stripped them of all excuse for having 
urged them; he confounded and subdued, as well as con- 
vinced. He indemnified them, however, by making his 
discussion a complete map of his subject; so that his oppo- 
nents might, indeed, feel ashamed of their mistakes, but 
they could not repeat them. In fact, it was no 'common 
effort that preserved a realty able antagonist from becoming 
his convert; for the truth, which his researches so dis- 
tinctly presented to the understanding of others, was ren- 
dered almost irresistibly commanding and impressive by 
the love and reverence, which, it was ever apparent, he 
profoundly cherished for it in his own. While patriotism 
glowed in his heart, wisdom blended in his speech her 
authority with her charms." 

In 1804, Mr. Ames was chosen president of Harvard 
College, but his ill-health compelled him to decline this 
honor. From this period his health continued rapidly to 
decline, until his death on the morning of the 4th of July, 
1808. As he lived the life, so he died the death of the 
Christian. His death-bed was a sublime scene of com- 
posure and triumph. "I have peace of mind," said he; 
" I think it is founded on a belief of the Gospel. And 

again he exclaimed, " My hope is in the mercy of God, 
44 



346 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

through Jesus Christ." Thus died the eloquent Ames in 
the bright, joyous hope of immortal bliss. 

The remains of Mr. Ames were carried to Boston, and 
there interred with the highest honors. His eulogy was 
pronounced by Mr. Samuel Dexter on the 6th of July; 
and the following beautiful lines, ascribed to Rev. Dr 
Gardiner, were sung in Kings. Chapel on the occasion: 

" As, when dark clouds obscure the dawn, 

The day-star's luster disappears, 
So Ames beheld our natal morn, 

And left desponding friends in tears. 
Soon as the distant cannon's roar, 

Announced that morn's returning ray, 
He feared its early hopes were o'er 

And flew to everlasting day. 
O, drop thy mantle, sainted shade, 

On some surviving patriot's name. 
Who, great by thy example made. 

May yet retrieve a nation's fame! 
The manly genius, ardent thought, 

The love of truth, and wit refined, 
The eloquence that wonders wrought, 

And flashed its light on every mind, — 
These gifts were thine, immortal Ames! 

Of motive pure, of life sublime; 
Their loss our flowing sorrow claims, — 

Their praise survives the wreck of time." 

The person of Mr. Ames was above middle stature and 
well formed. His countenance was handsome, and his eye 
expressive. His features were not strongly marked. His 
forehead was neither high nor expansive. His eyes were 
blue and of middling size; his mouth was beautiful; his 
hair was black, and short on the forehead, and, in his latter 
years, unpowdered. He was very erect, and when speak- 
ing he raised his head. His expression was usually com- 
placent, when in debate, and if he meant to be severe, it 
was seen in good-natured sarcasm, rather than in acrimo- 
nious words. 



FISHER AMES. 347 

Fisher Ames stands among the first class of orators ami 
statesmen. So copious and glowing was his eloquence 
that those who never heard him can form no proper con- 
ception of its magnificence and power. 

Mr. Ames possessed most of those characteristics which 
are essential in the formation of an accomplished orator — - 
a clear, comprehensive intellect, a lofty, brilliant imagina- 
tion, a correct enunciation, a mellifluous voice, an extra- 
ordinary memory, a fine sensibility, and an impassioned 
delivery. There was altogether an indescribable charm 
about his manner of speaking, which rendered him the 
delight of the senate and of the forum. 

The mind of Mr. Ames was of the highest order; and 
was enriched with the treasures of ancient and modern 
literature. In history, he was more profoundly versed 
than in any other branch of learning. He delighted to 
trace the rise, glory and downfall of ancient nations, and 
to contemplate the character of such renowned personages 
as Lycurgus, Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Brutus, and 
Cicero. He looked upon the character of the great Roman 
orator with fervent admiration. The Greek and Roman 
classics were his daily companions. Herodotus, Thucy- 
dides, Livy, Tacitus and Plutarch were his favorite authors 
among the ancients. He was familiar also with the best 
modern historians of Greece and Rome. The history of 
modern nations, especially of England and France, he 
studied with much care. To the study of political science 
he devoted considerable time. Thus he had always at 
hand, a large amount of historical information for illus- 
trating and embellishing his discourses, and for instruct- 
ing those with whom he conversed. The* perusal of his 
writings abundantly evinces his familiarity with the history 
and politics of the world. 

Mr. Ames was always an enthusiastic lover of poetry. 
He was a great admirer of Homer and Virgil, He often 



348 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

perused Pope's Homer; and two years before his death; 
read Virgil with increased delight. But above all, he was 
a diligent student of the Bible. His biographer says that 
he was accustomed to read the Scriptures, not only as 
containing a system of truth and duty, but as displaying 
in their poetical parts, all that is sublime, animated, and 
affecting in composition. He repeatedly made the follow- 
ing remark, " I will hazard the assertion, that no man ever 
did, or ever will become truly eloquent, without being a 
constant reader of the Bible, and an admirer of the purity 
and sublimity of its language." 

We have presented several eloquent extracts from the 
writings of Mr. Ames; but they afford us a very inade- 
quate conception of his powers. The magical effects of 
his eloquence were produced by his living tones, his grace- 
ful and impressive delivery. Let us then look at the living 
speaker in his brightest days, before disease had prostrated 
his energies. How noble his form! How expressive his 
countenance! How dignified his manner! He had the 
power to enlighten, to persuade, to please, to sway, and to 
charm. His tones were peculiarly sweet and musical. 
Many of his expressions were poetical. In his speaking 
there was no visible effort — "no straining aftereffect:" 
all was ease, grace and harmony. What Charles Phillips 
said of the eloquence of a distinguished Irish orator, is 
equally true of Ames' manner. 

The language, the look, the action wonderfully harmo- 
nized. The words which flowed from his lips so smoothly 
and so sweetly told not more surely on his audience than 
did the gesture which accompanied them. The passions 
invoked by the incantations of his tongue seemed to dwell 
for a moment on his countenance. There never, perhaps, 
lived a more splendid illustration of the mighty Greek's 
eulogy on action. Every attitude was grace ; every pause, 
expression, every play of the features a visible portraiture 



FISHER AMES. 349 

of the thoughts uttered, aud the sincerity which seemed 
to inspire them. While Ames enchained you by the magic 
of his diction, he also so enchanted you by the charm of 
his manner, that ear, and eye, and understanding owned 
the spell together. 

" His words had such a melting flow, 
And spoke of truth so sweetly well, 
They dropp'd like heaven r s serenest snow, 
And all was brightness where they fell." 

In giving an estimate of the genius of Mr. Ames, we 
would notice more particularly a few of the leading 
characteristics of his oratory. The most distinguished 
feature of his mind was his brilliant imagination. Like 
Burke's, it was imperial, ranging over the whole universe 
of nature and art, collecting materials from every source, 
and ornamenting his speech with the most beautiful and 
sublime figures. " Now it assembled most pleasing images, 
adorned with all that is soft and beautiful ; and now rose 
in the storm, wielding the elements and flashing with the 
most awful splendors." 

The writings of Mr. Ames abound in exuberance of 
imagery. His use of figures of speech is, sometimes, too 
copious. In this respect he closely resembles Burke, who 
employed them with so unsparing a hand. In the ora- 
tions of Ames, every great truth is beautifully illustrated 
and adorned by an apt metaphor, a lively image, or a strik- 
ing allusion. President Dwight, of Yale College, has some- 
where remarked of Mr. Ames, that his imagination was 
perhaps too brilliant and too rich. It could hardly be said 
that any of the pictures which it drew were ill-drawn or 
out. of place; yet, it might, I think, be truly said, that the 
gallery was crowded. The excess was not, however, the 
consequence of a defective taste, or a solicitude to shine; 
but the product of a fancy ever creative, always exuber- 
ant, and exerting its powers more easily in this manner 



350 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

than in any other. To speak and write as he actually 
spoke and wrote, was only to permit the thoughts and 
images which first offered themselves to flow from his lips 
or his pen. 

The specimens of Mr. Ames's style, which we have 
quoted, are among the most figurative of his expressions; 
and may well serve to illustrate his imagination. Another 
example of this kind we mention. In his eulogy on Wash- 
ington, when contrasting French with American liberty, he 
says, " Here, liberty is restraint; there, it is violence: here, 
it is mild and cheering, like the morning sun of our sum- 
mer, brightening the hills, and making the vallies green; 
there, it is like the sun, when his rays dart pestilence on 
the sands of Africa. American liberty calms and re- 
strains the licentious passions, like an angel that says to 
the winds and troubled seas, be still; but how has French 
licentiousness appeared to the wretched citizens of Switz- 
erland and Venice? Do not their haunted imaginations, 
even when they wake, represent her as a monster, with 
eyes that flash wild fire, hands that hurl thunderbolts, a 
voice that shakes the foundation of the hills? She stands, 
and her ambition measures the earth; she speaks, and an 
epidemic fury seizes the nations." 

Mr. Ames possessed acute sensibility, and patriotic en- 
thusiasm. These were the cause of his success — the 
means by which he gained possession of the heart, and 
held his audience in breathless attention and admiration. 
The highest style of oratory is that in which sensibility, 
enthusiasm and force, predominate. It is not the nature 
of true eloquence to be calm. It does not — it can not, — 
proceed from an unanimated speaker, but flows from a 
burning heart — a soul enrapture^ with its theme. " A 
true orator is an enthusiast, in the highest sense of the 
word God is in him, by lofty conception, — by pure and 
profound emotion. He establishes between himself and 



FISHER AMES. 351 

Ms hearers a real connection, like that which exists be- 
tween the poles of a magnetic circuit, through which he 
pours his spirit, all a-glow, into their sympathizing and 
receptive souls; so that, for the time being, speaker and 
hearers are one, under the blending influence of a common 
thought and a common impulse." Mr. Ames possessed 
this power of transmitting to others his own sympathetic 
emotions, his own glowing sentiments. He could strike 
those " delicate notes of soul-harmony which a sympathetic 
audience always repeat with rapture in their own hushed 
hearts." 

The fires of enthusiasm must be kindled, and burn with 
undimmed splendor in the bosom of that speaker who 
would charm and persuade his hearers. " A mind kindled 
with enthusiasm unfolds its grandeur in the light of its 
own flames, as the sea is never more grand than at night 
when it heaves, storm-tossed and brilliant, with the illu- 
mination of its own phosphorescence. When fully aroused 
in debate, Ames frequently trembled from head to foot; 
he wept in irrepressible emotion, and paused in the struggle 
to embody the inarticulate eloquence of his heart. He 
bent under the reflex passions he aroused in others, and 
then in turn bowed them under the augmented weight of 
his own." " In public speaking," says President Kirkland, 
" he trusted much to excitement, and did little more in his 
closet than to draw the outlines of his speech and reflect 
on it, till he had received deeply the impressions he in- 
tended to make; depending for the turns and figures of 
language, illustrations and modes of appeal to the passions, 
on his imagination and feelings at the time. This excite- 
ment continued, when the cause had ceased to operate 
After debate his mind was agitated, like the ocean after a 
storm, and his nerves were like the shrouds of a ship torn 
by the tempest." 

The style of Mr. Ames is striking and deserves particu- 



2-52 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

lar regard. It is remarkable for its clearness, strength, 
terseness, and conciseness. Like Lord Chatham's, his sen- 
tences are made up of short clauses; his words are ad- 
mirably chosen, and so well arranged that what he says 
can be readily comprehended. " He aimed rather at the 
terseness, strength, and vivacity of the short sentence, 
than the dignity of the full and flowing period." In the 
elaborateness of his composition, he excels Fox, Sheridan, 
Henry, Clay, and many others of our greatest statesmen. 
His style affords an excellent model for the young orator. 
It is not, however, entirely free from faults. But on the 
whole, there is more to be admired and imitated in his 
composition, than in that of most political writers or 
speakers. His orations and essays will long be regarded 
as among the most perfect models of a chaste and terse 
style. 

Mr. Ames has been admirably called the orator of elabo- 
rate beauty. " His eloquence is generally flowing and de- 
lightful, rising at times to passages of great power and 
pathos, — and conveyed always in a diction remarkably 
correct, terse and beautiful. Like Burke, he is distinguished 
by philosophic and comprehensive views. Such is the 
skill with which he draws from human nature, and from 
history, his lessons of political wisdom, that his orations 
and writings are as instructive as they are pleasing. Hence 
he is one of the few writers, whom we read with interest, 
long after the occasions and the excitements, which called 
them forth, have passed away " 




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CHAPTER XV. 



HENET CLAY. 

Henry Clay was born on the 12th of April, 1777, in 
Hanover county, Virginia, in a district well known as The 
Slashes — not far from the birth-place and home of Patrick 
Henry. At an early age he lost his father, a respectable 
Baptist clergyman. For the want of means, Mr. Clay did 
not receive a classical education. All the instruction he 
obtained was at a common school. Among the youths of 
Hanover that sat in the log-cabin school -house of The 
Slashes, under the instruction of master Peter Deacon, 
who would have imagined that there was one master-mind 
destined, ere long, to preside over the deliberations of his 
countrymen in the halls of Congress; — 

Th' applause of listening senates to command; 

The threats of pain and ruin to despise; 
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 

And read his history in a nation's eyes? 

At the age of fifteen, Mr. Clay entered the office of Peter 
Tinsley, Esq., clerk of the High Court of Chancery. Four 
years after, he commenced the study of the law, and was 
admitted to practice when he had attained his twentieth 
year. 

In November, 1797, he removed to Lexington, Kentucky, 

where he established himself in the profession of the law, 

and soon obtained an extensive practice. In a speech 
45 



354 ORATORS AND STA TESMEN. 

made at Lexington, June 9, 1S42, lie alludes to this early 
period of his life in the following touching manner: 

" In looking back upon my origin and progress through 
life, I have great reason to be thankful. My father died 
in 1781, leaving me an infant of too tender years to retain 
any recollection of his smiles or endearments. My sur- 
viving parent removed to this State in 1792, leaving me, a 
boy of fifteen years of age, in the office of the High Court 
of Chancery, in the City of Richmond, without guardian, 
without pecuniary means of support, to steer my course as 
I might or could. A neglected education was improved 
by my own irregular exertions, without the benefit of 
systematic instruction. I studied law principally in the 
office of a lamented friend, the late Governor Brooke, 
then Attorney-General of Virginia, and also under the 
auspices of the venerable and lamented Chancellor Wythe, 
for whom I had acted as an amanuensis. I obtained a 
license to practice the profession from the Judges of the 
Court of Appeals of Virginia, and established myself in 
Lexington in 1797, without patrons, without the favor or 
countenance of the great or opulent, without the means 
of paying my weekly board, and in the midst of a bar 
uncommonly distinguished by eminent members. I re- 
member hoAV comfortable I thought I should be, if I could 
make £100 Virginia money per year, and with what 
delight I received the first fifteen shilling fee. My hopes 
were more than realized. I immediately rushed into a 
successful and lucrative practice." 

Shortly after his removal to Lexington, Mr. Clay took 
part in a debating society, but like many other eminent 
public speakers in the commencement of their oratorical 
career, he lacked confidence in making his first effort. 
His feelings, when he rose, must have been similar to 
those of Curran, when he attempted to speak before a 
debating club. When Mr. Clay commenced his speech he 



HENRY CLAY. 355 

became extremely embarrassed and addressed the President 
of the Society by the title of Gentlemen of the Jury, but 
after a moment of confusion, and stammering out a repe- 
tition of the phrase Gentlemen of the Jury, " he gradually 
gained confidence from his own efforts, and, finally, con- 
centrating all his powers upon the subject in debate, he 
surprised his audience with a beauty and compass of 
voice, an exuberance of eloquence, and a force of argu- 
ment well worthy of a veteran orator. A gentleman who 
heard this speech has assured us, that it would hardly 
suffer in comparison with the most brilliant efforts made 
by its author in after life. His reputation as a speaker 
was of course established, and he became immediately a 
leading champion in all the debates of the society." 

In 1803, Mr. Clay was elected to the Legislature of Ken- 
tucky; in 1806, he was chosen to the Senate of the United 
States to fill a vacancy. After the expiration of his term 
in the Senate, he was re-elected to the State Legislature, 
and chosen speaker of that body for several successive 
years. 

In 1S09, he was again elected to the Senate of the 
United States to fill another vacancy. From the first, he 
took a prominent part in the discussion of the leading 
questions before Congress, and came forward as an ardent 
advocate of internal improvement, of domestic manu- 
factures, and of a protective policy. The eloquent defense 
of such public measures has rendered the orator of Ash- 
land one of the most popular of American Statesmen. 

When his term of service in the Senate again expired, 
Mr. Clay was immediately elected to the House of Repre- 
sentatives of the United States, and took his seat, on the 
4th of November, 1811. On the first day of that Con- 
gressional meeting, he was chosen speaker of the House 
by a triumphant vote — an honor which had never before 
been conferred upon a new member. This station he held, 



356 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

with tlie exception of two short intervals, until 1825, when 
he was appointed Secretary of State by President John 
Quincy Adams. He was elected speaker of the House 
seven times, and occupied the chair in all, about thirteen 
years. Mr. Clay was one of the most influential, popular 
and eloquent speakers ever chosen by the House of Repre- 
sentatives of the United States. He presided over the 
deliberations of that body with great ability and sagacity. 

Mr. Clay entered the halls of Congress during the 
stormy period of our late contest with Great Britain. That 
nation had committed a long series of outrages on our 
government by harrassing our commerce, searching our 
vessels, and impressing our seamen. Such injuries could 
be no longer endured by the Americans, and war was de- 
clared against Great Britain, on the 18tli of June, 1812. 
Mr. Clay urged this declaration with " almost as much 
vehemence and pertinacity, as Cato the destruction of 
Carthage." On the 31st of December, 1811, he made a 
brilliant speech on " Arming for War;" and another " On 
the increase of the Navy," delivered January 22, 1812. 

When the war had commenced, Mr. Clay exerted all his 
burning eloquence for its vigorous prosecution. In one 
of the most powerful speeches he ever made — that " On 
the New Army Bill," delivered in the House of Represen- 
tatives, JanuaryS, 1813, — he said, with the enthusiasm of 
a patriot and with the eloquence of Demosthenes: "My 
plan would be, to call out the ample resources of the 
country, give them a judicious direction, prosecute the 
war with the utmost vigor, strike w T herever we can reach 
the enemy, at sea or on land, and negotiate the terms of a 
peace at Quebec or at Halifax. We are told that England 
is a proud and lofty nation, which, disdaining to wait for 
danger, meets it half w r ay. Haughty as she is, we once 
triumphed over her; and, if we do not listen to the coun- 
sels of timidity and despair, we shall again prevail. In 



HENRY CLAY. 357 

such a cause, with the aid of Providence, we must come 
out crowned with success, but if we fail, let us fail like 
men, — lash ourselves to our gallant tars, and expire to- 
gether in one common struggle, fighting for free trade and 
seamen's rights!" 

At the commencement of the year 1814, Mr. Clay was 
appointed one of the Commissioners to negotiate a treaty 
of peace with Great Britain; and on the 19th of Januarv, 
he resigned his station as speaker of the House, in a very 
impressive address: "Gentlemen," said he, " I have at- 
tended you to-day, to announce my resignation of the 
distinguished station- in this House, with which I have 
been honored by your kindness. In taking leave of you, 
gentlemen, I shall be excused for embracing this last occa- 
sion, to express to you personally my thanks for the frank 
and liberal support, the chair has experienced at your 
hands. Wherever I may go, in whatever situation I may 
be placed, I can never cease to cherish, with the fondest 
remembrance, the sentiments of esteem and respect with 
which you have inspired me." 

" I was a member of the House during the war," writes 
one, " and was present when Mr. Clay made his farewell 
speech on resigning the Speakership. It was an impressive 
occasion. Not only were all the seats of members occu- 
pied, but many senators attended, and a large miscellaneous 
crowd. The war which he had been most active in hast- 
ening, and most energetic in prosecuting, he was now com- 
missioned with others to close. He was the youngest of 
the Commissioners, but sagacious far beyond his years. 
The hopes of the country, tired of a protracted struggle, 
grew brighter by his appointment. 

66 Undoubtedly, at this time, even in his youthful age, 
he had no rival in popularity. His name was every where 
familiar as ' household words.' His own bearing evinced 
a consciousness of his favor in the country. I was struck 



35 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

with his appearance on this occasion. There was a fire in 
his eye, an elation in his countenance, a buoyancy in his 
whole action, that seemed the self-consciousness of coming 
greatness. Hope brightened, and joy elevated his crest. 
As full of confidence, gallant bearing, and gratified look, 
he took his seat in the Speaker's chair, his towering height 
even more conspicuous than usual, I could not but call to 
mind Vernon's description of Henry, Prince of Wales, in 
Shakspeare: 

' I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 
His cuisses on his thigh, gallantly armed, 
Rise from the ground, like feather'd Mercury, 
And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, 
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
And witch the world with noble horsemanship.' 

" Age at this time had not withered, nor custom staled 
the infinite variety of his genius. The defects of his 
character had not been developed; prosperity had not 
sunned them, and they lie unsprouted in his heart; nor 
had he committed any of the blunders of his later life, 
w r hich, in a political view, have been pronounced worse 
than crimes. 

"After he had resigned the chair, in a neat and appro- 
priate speech, he came dow T n to the floor; and members 
surrounded him, to express their great grief at his with- 
drawal, — mingled, however, w T ith congratulations upon 
his appointment, and w 7 ith the expression of sanguine an- 
ticipations of the success of his mission." 

Mr. Clay took a leading part in the negotiation of the 
Treaty of Ghent.* Before his return home he visited 

* The following anecdote is worth relating here: While Mr. Clay was on a 
tour through the Netherlands, preparatory to the negotiation, Hon. Henry 
Goulhonrn, one of the British Commissioners, procured and sent him a file of 
London papers, containing accounts of the burning of Washington by the 



HENRY CLAY. 359 

several portions of Europe, and was received every where 
with marked attention. On his return to the United 
States, he was greeted with the greatest enthusiasm, and 
unanimously re-elected to Congress. On taking his seat, 
in December, 1815, he was again triumphantly chosen 
speaker of the House. " He was welcomed back to the 
seat in which he had gained such eminent distinction. 
His popularity in the country had nearly reached its cul- 
minating point. Peace with Great Britain, which the 
heart of the people longed for now, as before for the de- 
claration of war, had been satisfactorily arranged, and 
partly through his agency; and the multitude, ever seeking 
some tangible object of worship, lavished upon him every 
expression of grateful feeling and personal devotion. He 
was associated in their minds with the national glory and 
national prosperity. All the government had proposed by 
waging war against Great Britain — the freedom of our 
commerce, the safety of our seamen, and the honor of our 
flag, — had been secured, if not by express condition in 
the Treaty of Peace, yet, by the readiness with which the 
war had been entered upon, the earnestness with which it 
nad been carried on, and its ultimate success. Those, 
therefore, who had been most warm for the declaration of 
war, and most active in its vigorous prosecution, were now 
most endeared to the hearts of the nation." 

Among the most splendid and magnanimous efforts of 
Mr. Clay in the halls of Congress will ever be reckoned 
his famous speeches on the Emancipation of South Ameri- 
ca, and on the Greek Revolution. No one can forget his 

British troops, with a courteous epistle, stating that he presumed that Mr. 
Clay would be happy to receive the latest news from America. Mr. Clay 
returned his thanks for the civility, and, in further acknowledgment, enclosed 
to Mr. Goulbourn a later file of Paris papers, containing accounts of the defeat 
of Sir George Provost, at Plattsburgh, and the utter destruction of the British 
flotilla in the fight off that place 



360 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

burning eloquence in advocacy of the independence of 
these countries. 

In the spring of 18 18, the question on the recognition of 
South American independence was ably discussed in Con- 
gress. On the 24th of March, Mr. Clay delivered his 
memorable speech in the House of Representatives, on the 
emancipation of that country. In expressing, on this oc- 
casion, the sentiments of freedom by which he was ani- 
mated, the orator fearlessly asserted the right of an 
oppressed people, when practicable, to break their chains, 
and unfurl the banner of liberty. Said he: "I maintain, 
that an oppressed people are authorized, whenever they 
can, to rise and break their fetters. This was the great 
principle of the English revolution. It was the great 
principle of our own. Vattel, if authority were wanting, 
expressly supports this right. We must pass sentence of 
condemnation upon the founders of our liberty — say that 
they were rebels — traitors, and that we are at this mo- 
ment legislating without competent powers, before we can 
condemn the cause of Spanish America. Our revolution 
was mainly directed against the mere theory of tyranny. 
We had suffered comparatively but little; we had, in some 
respects, been kindly treated,- but our intrepid and intelli- 
gent fathers saw, in the usurpation of the power to levy 
an inconsiderable tax, the long train of oppressive acts 
that were to follow. They rose; they breasted the storm; 
they achieved our freedom. Spanish America for centuries 
has been doomed to the practical effects of an odious 
tyranny. If we were justified, she is more than justified. 

" I am no propagandist. I would not seek to force 
upon other nations our principles and our liberty, if they 
do not want them. I would not disturb the repose even of 
a detestable despotism. But, if an abused and oppressed 
people will their freedom; if they seek to establish it; if, 
in truth, they have established it, we have a right, as a 



HENRY CLAY. 361 

sovereign power, to notice the fact, and to act as circum- 
stances and our interest require. I will say, in the lan- 
guage of the venerated father of my country: ' Born in a 
land of liberty, my anxious recollections, my sympathetic 
feelings, and my best wishes, are irresistibly excited, when- 
soever in any country I see an oppressed nation unfurl 
the banners of freedom.' Whenever I think of Spanish 
America, the image irresistibly forces itself upon my mind 
of an elder brother, whose education has been neglected, 
whose person has been abused and maltreated, and who 
has been disinherited by the unkindness of an unnatural 
parent. And, when I contemplate the glorious struggle 
which that country is now making, I think I behold that 
brother rising, by the power and energy of his fin^ native 
genius, to the manly rank which nature, and nature's God, 
intended for him." 

In another portion of this speech he said with great 
effect: " Are we not bound then, upon our own principles, 
to acknowledge this new republic? If -we do not, who 
will?* Are we to expect that kings will set us the example 
of acknowledging the only republic on earth, except our 
own? We receive, promptly receive, a minister from what- 
ever king sends us one. From the great powers and the 
little powers we accredit ministers. We do more: we 
hasten to ; reciprocate the compliment; and anxious to 
manifest our gratitude for royal civility, we send for a 
minister (as in the case of Sweden and the Netherlands) 
of the lowest grade, one of the highest rank recognized 
by our laws. We are the natural head of the American 
family. I would not intermeddle with the affairs of Eu- 

* " The simple words, l who willV are said, by an intelligent observer, who 
was present, to have been uttered in a tone of such thrilling pathos, as to stir 
up the deepest sensibilities of the audience. It was by such apparently simple 
appeals that Mr. Clay, with the aid of his exquisitely modulated voice, often 
produced the most powerful and lasting effects." 
46 



362 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

rope. We wisely keep aloof from their broils. I would 
not even intermeddle in those of other parts of America, 
further than to exert the incontestable rights appertaining 
to us as a free, sovereign, and independent power; and, 
I contend, that the accrediting of a minister from a new 
republic is such a right. We are bound to receive their 
minister, if we mean to be really neutral.'*' 

This was one of the happiest of Mr. Clay's oratorical 
efforts. It is a most magnificent address. " No abstract," 
says one who heard it, " can furnish an adequate idea of 
a speech, which, as an example of argumentative oratory, 
may be safely tried by the test of the most approved mod- 
els of any age or country. Rich in all the learning con- 
nected with the subject; methodized in an order which kept 
that subject constantly before the hearer, and enabled the 
meanest capacity to follow the speaker without effort, 
through a long series of topics, principal and subsidiary; 
at once breathing sentiments of generous philanthropy 
and teaching lessons of wisdom: presenting a variety of 
illustrations which strengthened the doctrines that they 
embellished; and uttering prophecies, on which, though 
rejected by the infidelity of the day, time has stamped the 
seal of truth: this speech will descend to the latest pos- 
terity and remain embalmed in the praises of mankind, 
long after the tumults of military ambition and the plots 
of political profligacy have passed into oblivion." 

When the subject of the Greek Revolution was intro- 
duced in Congress, Mr. Clay made another bold and noble 
effort in behalf of human freedom. His great speech on 
the Greek Revolution was delivered in the House of 
Representatives, on the 20th of January, 1824, in suppor* 
of Mr. Webster's resolution providing by law for defray- 
ing the expenses incident to the appointment of an agent 
or commissioner to Greece, whenever the president should 
deem it expedient to make such appointment. It would 



HENRY CLAY. 363 

be impossible to describe the effect produced by this mas- 
terly address. It was an effort in which the eloquence of 
Mr. Clay gleamed with unrivaled splendor. Every ear was 
pleased, every heart was charmed with the spirit-stirring 
appeals which flowed from the lips of the speaker. Like 
the great orations of the famous orators of antiquity this 
speech will be held in lasting admiration. It abounds in 
passages of patriotic fervor. Take the following for ex- 
ample: 

" There is reason to apprehend that a tremendous storm 
is ready to burst upon our happy country — one which 
may call into action all our vigor, courage, and resources. 
Is it wise or prudent, in preparing to breast the storm, if 
it must come, to talk to this nation of its incompetency 
to repel European aggression, to lower its spirit, to weaken 
its moral energy, and to qualify it for easy conquest and 
base submission? If there be any reality in the dangers 
which are supposed to encompass us, should we not ani- 
mate the people, and adjure them to believe, as I do, that 
our resources are ample; and that we can bring into the 
field a million of freemen, ready to exhaust their last drop 
of blood, and to spend the last cent in the defense of the 
country, its liberty, and its institutions? Sir, are these, 
if united, to be conquered by all Europe combined? All 
the perils to which we can possibly be exposed, are much 
less in reality than the imagination is disposed to paint 
them. And they are best averted by an habitual contem- 
plation of them, by reducing them to their true dimensions. 
If combined Europe is to precipitate itself upon us, we 
can not too soon begin to invigorate our strength, to teach 
our heads to think, our hearts to conceive, and our arms 
to execute, the high and noble deeds which belong to the 
character and glory of our country. The experience of 
the world instructs us, that conquests are already achieved, 
which are boldly and firmly resolved on; and that men only 



3G4 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

become slaves wJw have ceased to resolve to he free. If we 
wish to cover ourselves with the best of all armor, let us 
not discourage our people, let us stimulate their ardor, let 
us sustain their resolution, let us proclaim to them that we 
feel as they feel, and that, with them, we are determined 
to live or die like freemen. 

" Surely, Sir, we need no long or learned lectures about 
the nature of government, and the influence of property 
or ranks on society. We may content ourselves with 
studying the true character of our own people; and with 
knowing that the interests are confided to us of a nation 
capable of doing and suffering all things for its liberty. 
Such a nation, if its rulers be faithful, must be invincible. 
I well remember an observation made to me by the most 
illustrious female* of the age, if not of her sex. All 
history showed, she said, that a nation was never con- 
quered. No, Sir. no united nation that resolves to be free, 
can be conquered. And has it come to this? Are we so 
humbled, so low, so debased, that we dare not express our 
sympathy for suffering Greece, that we dare not articulate 
our detestation of the brutal excesses of which she has 
been the bleeding victim, lest we might offend some one 
or more of their imperial and royal majesties? If gentle- 
men are afraid to act rashly on such a subject, suppose, 
Mr. Chairman, that we unite in an humble petition, ad- 
dressed to their majesties, beseeching them that of their 
gracious condescension, they would allow us to express 
our feelings and our sympathies. How shall it run? ' We, 
the representatives of the/ree people of the United States 
of America, humbly approach the thones of your imperial 
and royal majesties, and supplicate that, of your imperial 
and royal clemency,' — I can not go through the disgusting 
recital — my lips have not yet learned to pronounce the 

* Madame de Stael. 



HENRY CLAY. 365 

sycophantic language of a degraded slave! Are we so 
mean, so base, so despicable, that we may not attempt to 
express our horror, utter our indignation, at the most 
brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth or shocked 
high heaven; at the ferocious deeds of a savage and infu- 
riated soldiery, stimulated and urged on by the clergy of 
a fanatical and inimical religion, and rioting in all the 
excesses of blood and butchery, at the mere details of 
which the heart sickens and recoils! 

" If the great body of Christendom can look on calmly 
and coolly, whilst all this is perpetuated on a Christian 
people, in its own immediate vicinity, in its very presence, 
let us at least evince that one of its remote extremeties is 
susceptible of sensibility to Christian wrongs, and capable 
of sympathy for Christian sufferings; that in this remote 
quarter of the world, there are hearts not yet closed 
against compassion for human woes, that can pour out 
their indignant feelings at the oppression of a people en- 
deared to us by every ancient recollection, and every 
modern tie." 

The peroration is conceived in the boldest language of 
an ardent patriot: " But, Sir, it is not for Greece alone 
that I desire to see this measure adopted. It will give to 
her but little support, and that purely of a moral kind. 
It is principally for America, for the credit and character 
of our common country, for our own unsullied name, that 
I hope to see it pass. What, Mr. Chairman, appearance 
on the page of history would a record like this exhibit? 
' In the month of January, in the year of our Lord and 
Savior, 1824, while all European Christendom beheld, 
with cold and unfeeling indifference, the unexampled 
wrongs and inexpressible misery of Christian Greece, a 
proposition was made in the Congress of the United States, 
almost the sole, the last, the greatest depository of human 
hope and human freedom, the representatives of a gallant 



366 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

nation, containing a million of freemen *eady to fly to 
arms, while the people of that nation were spontaneously 
expressing its deep-toned feeling, and the whole continent, 
by one simultaneous emotion, was rising, and solemnly 
and anxiously supplicating and invoking high Heaven to 
spare and succor Greece, and to invigorate her arms, in 
her glorious cause, while temples and senate houses were 
alike resounding with one burst of generous and holy 
sympathy; — in the year of our Lord and Savior, that Sa- 
vior of Greece and of us — a proposition was offered in 
the American Congress to send a messenger to Greece, to 
inquire into her state and condition, with a kind expres- 
sion of our good wishes and our sympathies — and it was 
rejected!' Go home, if you can, go home, if you dare, to 
your constituents, and tell them that you voted it down — 
meet, if you can, the appalling countenances of those who 
sent you here, and tell them that you shrank from the de- 
claration of your own sentiments — that you can not tell 
how, but that some unknown dread, some indescribable 
apprehension, some indefinable danger, drove you from 
your purpose — that the specters of cimeters, and crowns, 
and crescents, gleamed before you and alarmed you; and 
that you suppressed all the noble feelings prompted by 
religion, by liberty, by national independence, and by hu- 
manity. I can not bring myself to believe that such will 
be the feeling of a majority of the committee. But, for 
myself, though every friend of the cause should desert it, 
and I be left to stand alone with the gentleman from Mas- 
sachusetts, I will give to his resolution the poor sanction 
of my unqualified approbation." 

One of the best efforts of Mr. Clay in favor of Internal 
Improvement — a cause in which his feelings were so 
deeply enlisted, during the whole period of his public 
career, was his speech of the 16th of January, 1824. It 
contains a luminous statement of his views in relation to 



HENRY CLAY. 367 

the great work of improving the country We can not 
omit the following felicitous sentences which occur in this 
address. Speaking of the loyalty of the Western States 
to the Union, the orator rose to a thrilling strain: "No por- 
tion of the population," said he, " is more loyal to the 
Union, than the hardy freemen of the west. Nothing can 
weaken or eradicate their ardent desire for its lasting pre- 
servation. None are more prompt to vindicate the interests 
and rights of the nation from all foreign aggression. Need 
I remind you of the glorious scenes in which they partici- 
pated during the late war — a war in which they had no 
peculiar or direct interest, waged for no commerce, no sea- 
men of theirs. But it was enough for them that it was a 
war demanded by the character and the honor of the na- 
tion. They did not stop to calculate its cost of blood or 
of treasure. They flew to arms ; they rushed down the valley 
of the Mississippi, with all the impetuosity of that noble river. 
They sought the enemy. They found him at the beach. 
They fought; they bled; they covered themselves and their 
country with immortal glory. They enthusiastically shared 
in all the transports occasioned by our victories, whether 
won on the ocean or on the land. They felt, with the 
keenest distress, whatever disaster befell us. No, Sir, I 
repeat it, neglect, injury itself, can not alienate the affec- 
tions of the west from this government. They cling to it, 
as to their best, their greatest, their last hope. You may 
impoverish them, reduce them to ruin, by the mistakes of 
your policy, and you can not drive them from you." 

Such passages deserve to be treasured up with the most 
precious gems of ancient and modern literature. 

In 1S25, Mr. Clay was appointed Secretary of State by 
President Adams. After remaining two years in retire- 
ment after the close of Mr. Adams' administration, he was 
elected to the Senate of the United States in the autumn 



368 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of 1S31. He continued in the Senate until he resigned his 
seat in 1842. 

It would exceed our narrow limits to follow Mr. Clay 
through his political career. We merely mention one or 
two of the most distinguished services which he rendered 
to his country during this brilliant period of his senator- 
ship. One of these was his introduction of the famous 
Compromise Bill which restored peace and harmony to a 
distracted nation. On the 12th of February, 1833, Mr # 
Clay entered the senate-chamber w T ith this olive-branch 
of peace in his hand, while the awful tempest of civil war 
threatened to sweep through the land and stain this fair 
Republic with streams of fraternal blood. 

On presenting the Compromise Bill, Mr. Clay addressed 
the Senate with feeling eloquence: " If there be any who 
want civil war — who want to see the blood of any por- 
tion of our countrymen spilt — I am not one of them. I 
wish to see war of no kind; but, above all, I do not desire 
to see a civil war.* When war begins wiiether civil or 
foreign, no human sight is competent to foresee when, or 
how, or where it is to terminate. But when a civil w T ar 
shall be lighted up in the bosom of our own happy land, 
and armies are marching, and commanders are winning 
their victories, and fleets are in motion on our coast — tell 
me, if you can, tell me if any human being can tell its 
duration. God alone knows where such a war would end. 
In what a state will be left our institutions'.' In what 

* " Civil wars strike deepest of all into the manners of the people. They 
vitiate their politics-, they corrupt their morals; tbey pervert even the natural 
taste and relish of equity and justice. By teaching us to consider our fellow- 
citizens in a hostile light, the whole body of our nation becomes gradually less 
dear to us. The very names of affection and kindred, which were the bond of 
charity whilst we agree"!, become new incentives to hatred and rage, when 
the communion of our country is dissolved." — Edmund Burke. 



HENRY CLAY. 369 

siate our liberties? I want no war ; above all, no war at 
home. 

" Sir, I repeat, that I think South Carolina has been rash, 
intemperate, and greatly in the wrong, but I do not want 
to disgrace her, nor any other member of this Union. 
No: I do not desire to see the luster of one single star 
dimmed, of that glorious confederacy which constitutes 
our political system; still less do I wish to see it blotted out, 
and its light obliterated for ever. Has not the State of 
South Carolina been one of the members of this Union in 
'days that tried men's souls?' Have not her ancestors 
fought along side our ancestors? Have we not conjointly, 
won together many a glorious battle? If we had to go 
into a civil war with such a state, how would it terminate? 
Whenever it should have terminated, what would be her 
condition? If she should ever return to the Union, what 
would be the condition of her feelings and affections; 
what the state of the heart of her people? She has been 
w T ith us before, when her ancestors mingled in the throng 
of battle, and as I hope our posterity will mingle w r ith hers, 
for ages and centuries to come, in the united defense of 
liberty, and for the honor and glory of the Union, I do 
not wish to see her degraded or defaced as a member of 
this confederacy. 

" In conclusion, allow me to entreat and implore each 
individual member of this body to bring into the con- 
sideration of this measure, which I have had the honor of 
proposing, the same love of country which, if I know 
myself, lias actuated me, and the same desire of restoring 
harmony to the Union, which has prompted this effort. If 
we can forget for a moment — but that would be asking 
too much of human nature — if w T e could suffer, for one 
moment, party feelings and party causes — and, as I stand 
here before my God, I declare I have looked beyond those 

considerations, and regarded only the vast interests of 
47 



370 ORATOKS APs']) STATESMEN. 

this united people - I should hope that, under such feel- 
ings, and with such dispositions, we may advantageously 
proceed to the consideration of this bill, and heal, before 
they are yet bleeding, the wounds of our distracted 
country." 

In the Senate, the passage of the Compromise Act 
was opposed by Mr. Webster and others. To their argu- 
ments Mr. Clay replied in a masterly manner, in a speech 
supporting his measure, delivered in the Senate on the 
25th of February. Toward the close of this speech he 
said: " While we would vindicate the federal government, 
we are for peace, if possible, union and liberty. We want 
no war, above all, no civil war, no family strife. We 
want to see no sacked cities, no desolated fields, no smoking 
ruins, no streams of American blood shed by American 
arms!" 

In answer to the charge o! ambition which had been 
brought against him in presenting the Compromise Act he 
said in concluding this powerful effort: " I have been ac- 
cused of ambition in presenting this measure. Ambition! 
inordinate ambition! If I had thought of myself only, I 
should never have brought it forward. I know well the 
perils to which I expose myself; the risk of alienating 
faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of 
making new ones, if any new ones could compensate for 
the loss of those whom we have long tried and loved; and 
the honest misconceptions both of friends and foes. Am- 
bition ! If I had listened to its soft and seducing whis- 
pers; if I had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, 
calculating, and prudential policy, I would have stood still 
and unmoved. I might even have silently gazed on the 
raging storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders and left those 
who are charged with the care of the vessel of State, to 
conduct it as they could. I have been heretofore often 
unjustly accused of ambition. Low, groveling souls. 



HENRY CLAY. 371 

who are utterly incapable of elevating themselves to the 
higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism — beings who, 
forever keeping their own selfish aims in view, decide all 
public measures by their presumed influence on their 
aggrandizement, judge me by the venal rule which they 
prescribe to themselves. I have given to the winds those 
false accusations, as I consign that which now impeaches 
my motives. I have no desire for office, not even the 
highest. The most exalted is but a prison, in which the 
incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless 
visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the 
practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine free- 
dom. I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the 
people of these States, united or separated; I never wish, 
never expect to be. Pass this bill, tranquilize the country, 
restore confidence and affection in the Union, and I am 
willing to go home to Ashland, and renounce public ser- 
vice for ever. I should there find, in its groves, under its 
shades, on its lawns, amidst my flocks and herds, in the 
bosom of my family, sincerity and truth, attachment and 
fidelity, and gratitude, which I have not always found in 

the walks of public life Yes, T have ambition, but it is 

the ambition of being the humble instrument, in the 
hands of Providence, to reconcile a divided people, once 
more to revive concord and harmony in a distracted land — 
the pleasing ambition of contemplating the glorious spec- 
tacle of a free, united, prosperous and fraternal people!" 
In 1833, the removal of the public deposits was effected 
by the order of President Jackson. Mr. Duane, Secretary 
of the Treasury, who refused to remove them, was dis- 
missed from office, and Roger B. Taney, the present Chief 
Justice, was appointed in his place. Mr. Taney imme- 
diately ordered the removal of the deposits, according to 
the wish of General Jackson. This act of the President 
aroused the in lignation of thousands throughout the 



372 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

country. It moreover drew from Mr. Clay one of his 
ablest arguments, and most fervent appeals. When Con- 
gress met, he offered the following resolutions in the Sen- 
ate, on the 26th of December, 1833: 

1. Resolved, That by dismissing the late Secretary of 
the Treasury, because he would not, contrary to his sense 
of his own duty, remove the money of the United States 
in deposit with the Bank of the United States and its 
branches, in conformity with the President's opinion, and 
by appointing his successor to effect such removal, which 
has been done, the President has assumed the exercise 
of a power over the Treasury of the United States, not 
granted to him by the Constitution and laws, and danger- 
ous to the liberties of the people. 

2. Resolved, That the reasons assigned by the Secretary 
of the Treasury for the removal of the money of the 
United States, deposited in the Bank of the United States, 
and its branches, communicated to Congress on the third 
day of December, 1833, are unsatisfactory and insufficient. 

On introducing these resolutions, Mr. Clay delivered a 
speech which created enthusiastic applause. It displayed 
great powers of argument and of eloquence. In this effort 
he put forth his intellectual might. He gave his w T hole 
heart to the speech. " His burning eloquence carried away 
his audience, and loud plaudits from the gallery accom- 
panied and interrupted him. These demonstrations of 
sympathy were of course immediately suppressed by the 
chair, who could not ; however, prevent entirely their 
recurrence. 

He passed from wit to argument, from satire to denun- 
ciation, ' from lively to severe,' with such rapidity that 
extremes seemed to touch, and laughter and indignation 
almost commingled. He put forth the whole variety of 
his intellect, omitting nothing, stinting nothing, exaggera- 
ting nothing. 



HENRY CLAY. 373 

His illustrations were peculiarly felicitous. The civil 
and loving expressions with which General Jackson ejected 
Mr. Duane — his recusant Secretary of the Treasury — re- 
minded him he said, of one of the most remarkable char- 
acters which our species has produced: " When Oliver 
Cromwell was contending for the mastery in Great Britain 
or Ireland (I do not remember which), he besieged a cer- 
tain Catholic town. The place made a brave and stout re- 
sistance; but, at length, being likely to be taken, the poor 
Catholics proposed terms of capitulation, among which 
was one stipulating for the toleration of their religion 
The paper containing the conditions being presented to 
Oliver, he put on his spectacles, and, after deliberately 
examining them, cried out, * Oh, yes, granted, granted, 
certainly; but,' he added with stern determination, 'if 
one of them shall dare be found attending mass, he shall 
be instantly hanged.' 

There were many not less apposite than this, and some 
more illustrative of the points he made in his argument. 
He was listened to throughout with profound attention." 

In the conclusion of this speech, he said: " The eyes and 
the hopes of the American people are anxiously turned 
to Congress. They feel that they have been deceived and 
insulted; their confidence abused; their interests betrayed; 
and their liberties in danger. They see a rapid and alarm- 
ing concentration of all power in one man's hands. They 
see that, by the exercise of the positive authority of the 
executive, and his negative power exerted over Congress, 
the will of one man alone prevails, and governs the Re- 
public. The question is no longer what laws will Con- 
gress pass, but what will the executive not veto? The 
President, and not Congress, is addressed for legislative 
action. We have seen a corporation, charged with the 
execution of a great national work, dismiss an experienced, 
faithful and zealous President, afterwards testify to his 



374 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

ability by a voluntary resolution, and reward his extra- 
ordinary services by a large gratuity, and appoint in his 
place an executive favorite, totally inexperienced and in- 
competent, to propitiate the President. We behold the 
usual incidents of approaching tyranny. The land is 
filled with spies and informers; and detraction and denun- 
ciation are the orders of the day. People, especially 
official incumbents in this place, no longer dare speak in 
the fearless tones of manly freemen, but in the cautious 
whispers of trembling slaves. The premonitory symptoms 
of despotism are upon us; and if Congress do not apply 
an instantaneous and effective remedy, the fatal collapse 
will soon come on, and we shall die — ignobly die! base, 
mean, and abject slaves — the scorn and contempt of man- 
kind — unpitied, unwept, unmourned!" 

The first resolution of Mr. Clay, censuring the President, 
was somewhat modified before it was adopted. Both of 
his resolutions finally passed, and were recorded in the 
journal of the Senate. 

The next great effort of Mr. Clay which we shall notice 
was made in 1837, on the Expunging Resolution. On the 
6th of January, 1837, a resolution, offered by Col. Benton, 
to expunge Mr. Clay's resolution censuring President 
Jackson for removing the deposits, passed the Senate by a 
vote of 24 to 19. 

In vain did Mr. Clay oppose this resolution with all his 
energy. It was carried by a party vote. On this occasion 
he poured forth a torrent of cutting sarcasm, indignant 
invective, and scathing eloquence, of which the following 
extract is a fine specimen. It is the conclusion of his 
great speech: "What patriotic purpose is to be accom- 
plished by this expunging resolution? Can you make that 
not to be which has been? Can you eradicate from memory 
and from history the fact, that in March, 1834, a majority 
of the Senate of the United States passed the resolution 



HENRY CLAY. 375 

Which excites your enmity? Is it your vain and wicked 
object to arrogate to yourselves that power of annihilating 
the past which has been denied to Omnipotence itself? 
Do you intend to thrust your hands into your hearts, and 
pluck out the deeply rooted convictions which are there? 
or is it your design merely to stigmatize us? You can not 
stigmatize us. 

1 Ne'er yet did base dishonor blur our name. 1 

" Standing securely upon our conscious rectitude, and 
bearing aloft the shield of the Constitution of our country, 
your puny efforts are impotent, and we defy all your 
power. Put the majority of 1834 in one scale, and that 
by which this expunging resolution is to be carried in the 
other, and let truth and justice, in heaven above and on 
the earth below, and liberty and patriotism decide the pre- 
ponderance. 

" What patriotic purpose is to be accomplished by this 
expunging? Is it to appease the wrath, and to heal the 
wounded pride of the Chief Magistrate? If he be really 
the hero that his friends represent him, he must despise 
all mean condescension, all groveling sycophancy, all 
self-degradation, and self-abasement. He would reject 
with scorn and contempt, as unworthy of his fame, your 
black scratches, and your baby lines in the fair records of 
his country. Black lines! Black lines! Sir, I hope the 
Secretary of the Senate will preserve the pen with which 
he may inscribe them, and present it to that Senator of 
the majority whom he may select, as a proud trophy, to be 
transmitted to his descendants. And hereafter, when we 
shall lose the forms of our free institutions, all that now 
remain to us, some future American monarch, in gratitude 
to those by whose means he has been enabled, upon the 
ruins of civil liberty, to erect a throne, and to commem- 
orate especially this expunging resolution, may institute a 



376 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

new order of knighthood, and confer on it the appropriate 
name of the knight of the black lines. 

" But why should I detain the Senate or needlessly 
waste my breath in fruitless exertions. The decree has 
gone forth. It is one of urgency, too. The deed is to be 
done — that foul deed, like the blood-stained hands of the 
guilty Macbeth, all ocean's waters will never wash out. 
Proceed, then, to the noble work which lies before you, 
and like other skillful executioners, do it quickly. And. 
when you have perpetrated it, go home to the people, and 
tell them what glorious honors you have achieved for our 
common country. Tell them that you have extinguished 
one of the brightest and purest lights that ever burnt at 
the altar of civil liberty. Tell them that you have 
Silenced one of the noblest batteries that ever thundered 
in defence of the constitution, and bravely spiked the 
cannon. Tell them that, henceforward, no matter what 
daring or outrageous act any President may perform, you 
have forever hermetically sealed the mouth of the Senate. 
Tell them that he may fearlessly assume what power he 
pleases — snatch from its lawful custody the public purse, 
command a military detachment to enter the halls of the 
Capitol, overawe Congress, trample down the Constitution, 
and raze every bulwark of freedom; but that the Senate 
must stand mute, in silent submission, and not dare to 
raise its opposing voice. That it must wait until a House 
of Representatives, humbled and subdued like itself, and 
a majority of it composed of the partisans of the Presi- 
dent, shall prefer articles of impeachment. Tell them 
finally, that you have restored the glorious doctrine of 
passive obedience and nonresistance, and, if the people 
do not pour out their indignation and imprecations, I have 
yet to learn the character of American freemen." 

After Mr. Clay had finished his speech he retired from 
the Senate with the determination not to witness the draw- 



HENRY CLAY. 377 

ing of the black lines across his resolution After he had 
retired, the act was soon done in the Senate Chamber, 
amidst vehement and repeated hisses from the galleries. 

Another of the finest strokes of Mr. Clay's genius and 
the best specimen of his style, is contained in an unpre- 
meditated reply to Mr. Rives in 1841, in which he gives 
us his celebrated definition of public virtue. It is one of 
the finest passages in our language. When President Tyler 
vetoed the Bill chartering a Bank of the United Stales, 
which had passed both Houses of Congress, Mr. Clay ad- 
dressed the Senate on this subject, on the 19th of August. 
He was immediately followed by Mr. Rives who vindicated 
the act of the President. When he had concluded his 
remarks, Mr. Clay rose and addressed the Senate in an 
unpremeditated rejoinder, of which the following is a 
specimen: 

" I rose not to say one word which should wound the 
feelings of President Tyler. The senator says that, if 
placed in like circumstances, I would have been the last 
man to avoid putting a direct veto u]3on the Bill, had it 
met my disapprobation; and he does me the honor to 
attribute to me high qualities of stern and unbending in- 
trepidity. I hope, that in all that relates to personal firm- 
ness, all that concerns a just appreciation of the insignifi- 
cance of human life — whatever may be attempted to 
threaten or alarm a soul not easily swayed by opposition, 
or awed or intimidated by menace — a stout heart and a 
steady eye, that can survey, unmoved and undaunted, any 
mere personal perils that assail this poor, transient, perish- 
ing frame, I may, without disparagement, compare with 
other men. But there is a sort of courage, which, I 
frankly confess it, I do not possess, a boldness to which I 
dare not aspire, a valor which I can not covet. I can not 
lay myself down in the w r ay of the welfare and happiness 

of my country. That I can not, I have not the courage to 
48 



378 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

do I can not interpose the power with which I may be 
invested, a power conferred not for my personal benefit, nor 
for my aggrandizement, but for my country's good, to 
check her onward march to greatness and glory. I hav^ 
not courage enough, I am too cowardly for that. I would 
not, I dare not, in the exercise of such a trust, lie down, 
and place my body across the path that leads my country 
to prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of courage 
widely different from that which a man may display in his 
private conduct and personal relations. Personal or pri- 
vate courage is totally distinct from that higher and nobler 
courage which prompts the patriot to offer himself a volun- 
tary sacrifice to his country's good. 

"Nor did I say, as the senator represents, that the Pre- 
sident should have resigned. I intimated no personal wish 
or desire that he should resign. I referred to the fact of 
a memorable resignation in his public life. And what I 
did say was, that there were other alternatives before him 
besides Vetoing the Bill; and that it was worthy of his 
consideration whether consistency did not require that 
the example which he had set when he had a constituency 
of one State, should not be followed when he had a con- 
stituency commensurate with the whole Union. Another 
alternative was, to suffer the Bill, without his signature, 
to pass into a law under the provisions of the Constitu- 
tion. And I must confess, I see, in this, no such escaping 
by the back door, no such jumping out of the window, as 
the senator talks about. 

" Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firm- 
ness sometimes impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate 
acts. It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the im- 
putation of the want of courage. But pride, vanity, ego- 
tism, so unamiable and offensive in private life, are vices 
which partake of the character of crimes, in the conduct 
of public affairs. The unfortunate victim of these passions 



HENRY CLAY. 3/9 

can not see beyond the little, petty, contemptible circle of 
his own personal interests. All his thoughts are with- 
drawn from his country, and concentrated on his consis- 
tency, his firmness, himself. The high, the exalted, the sub- 
lime emotions of a patriotism, which, soaring toward heaven, 
rises far above all mean, low, or selfish things, and is absorbed 
by one soul-transporting thougld of the good and the glory 
of one's country, are never felt in his impenetrable bosom. 
That patriotism, which, catching its inspirations from the im~ 
mortal God, and leaving at an immeasurable distance below 
all lesser, groveling, personal interests and feelings, animates 
and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotion, 
and of death itself — that is public virtue ; that is the noblest, 
the sublimest of all public virtues /"* 

On the 31st of March, 1842, Mr. Clay resigned his seat 
in the Senate. When it was known that he was to deliver 
his farewell address, a large audience was brought together 
in the Senate chamber. It was an interesting and solemn 
scene. Mr. Clay rose and addressed the Senate in a most 
affecting speech, from which the following beautiful ex- 
tracts are taken: 

" Full of attraction, however, as a seat in the Senate is, 
sufficient as it is to satisfy the aspirations of the most am- 
bitious heart, I have long determined to relinquish it, and 
to seek that repose which can be enjoyed only in the shades 

* Several years afterwards, Mr. Clay referred to this passage as the most 
effective burst of eloquence that ever flowed from his lips. To the following 
question proposed to him by a distinguished foreigner, " Mr. Clay, which of 
your public speeches do you consider the most effective and powerful?" he re- 
plied, " There is a portion of the speech on the Veto of Mr. Tyler, on the 
Bank Bill, in reply to Mr. Rives, which produced the most electrifying effect 
of any thing I ever uttered. The immediate subject was Patriotism. Nature," 
added he, smiling, " had singularly favored me by giving me a voice peculiarly 
adapted to produce the impressions I wished in public speaking; now," said he, 
u its melody is changed, its music gone !" (And this was said as if in mockery, 
in sounds of exquisite sweetness.) 



3 SO ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of private life, in the circle of one's own family, and in 
the tranquil enjoyments included in one enchanting word — 

HOME. 

" I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Kentucky 
now nearly forty -five years ago; I went as an orphan boy 
who had not yet attained the age of majority; who had 
never recognized a father's smile, nor felt his warm 
caresses; poor, penniless, without the favor of the great; 
w r ith an imperfect and neglected education, hardly suffi- 
cient for the ordinary business and common pursuits of 
life; but scarce had I set my foot upon her generous soil 
when I was embraced with parental fondness, caressed as 
though I had been a favorite child, and patronized with 
liberal and unbounded munificence. From that period the 
highest honors of the State have been freely bestowed upon 
me; and when, in the darkest hour of calumny and detrac- 
tion, I seemed to be assailed by all the rest of the world, 
she interposed her broad and impenetrable shield, repelled 
the poisonous shafts that were aimed for my destruction, 
and vindicated my good name from every malignant and 
unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable plea- 
sure to linger a while longer, and mingle with the warm- 
hearted and whole-souled people of that State; and, when 
the last scene shall forever close upon me, I hope that my 
earthly remains will be laid under her green sod with 
those of her gallant and patriotic sons. 

" That my nature is w r arm, my temper ardent, my dis- 
position, especially in relation to the public service, en- 
thusiastic, I am ready to own; and those who suppose that 
I have been assuming the dictatorship, have only mistaken 
for arrogance or assumption that ardor and devotion which 
are natural to my constitution, and which I may have dis- 
played with too little regard to cold, calculating and 
cautious prudence, in sustaining and zealously supporting 



HENRY CLAY 381 

important national measures of policy which I have pre- 
sented and espoused. 

" In the course of a long and arduous public service, 
especially during the last eleven years in which I have 
held a seat in the Senate, from the same ardor and enthu- 
siasm of character, I have no doubt, in the heat of debate, 
and in an honest endeavor to maintain my opinions 
against adverse opinions alike honestly entertained, as to 
the best course to be adopted for the public welfare, I may 
have often inadvertently and unintentionally, in moments 
of excited debate, made use of language that has been 
offensive, and susceptible of injurious interpretation to- 
ward my brother Senators. If there be any here who re- 
tain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction produced 
on such occasions, I beg to assure them that I now offer 
the most ample apology for any departure on my part 
from the established rules of parliamentary decorum and 
courtesy. On the other hand, I assure the Senators, one 
and all, without exception and without reserve, that I re- 
tire from this chamber without carrying with me a single 
feeling of resentment or dissatisfaction to the Senate or 
any one of its Members. 

" I go from this place under the hope that we shall mu- 
tually consign to perpetual oblivion whatever personal 
collisions may at any time unfortunately have occurred 
between us; and that our recollections shall dwell in 
future only on those conflicts of mind with mind, those 
intellectual struggles, those noble exhibitions of the powers 
of logic, argument, and eloquence, honorable to the Senate 
and to the Nation, in which each has sought and contended 
for what he deemed the best mode of accomplishing one 
common object, the interest and happiness of our beloved 
country. To these thrilling and delighful scenes it will 
be my pleasure and my pride to look back in my retirement 
vith unmeasured satisfaction." 



382 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

In the conclusion of his speech, he invoked the blessing 
of Heaven upon the Senate in a manner that electrified all 
present. No one who had the pleasure of hearing that 
address will ever forget the thrilling tones with which he 
gave utterance to these parting words: 

" May the most precious blessings of Heaven rest upon 
the whole Senate and each member of it, and may the 
labors of every one redound to the benefit of the nation 
and the advancement of his own fame and renown. And 
when you shall retire to the bosom of your constituents, 
may you receive that most cheering and gratifying of all 
human rewards — their cordial greeting of ' Well done > 
good and faithful servant.' 

" And now, Mr. President, and Senators, I bid you all a 
long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell."* 

The whole audience was overcome by Mr. Clay's fasci- 
nating tones. There was not a dry eye in the Senate. 
For a few moments no one moved. At length Mr. Pres- 
ton, of South Carolina, rose and remarked that what had 
just taken place was an epoch in their legislative history: 
and, from the feeling which was evinced, he plainly saw 
that there was little disposition to attend to business. 
On the motion of Mr. Preston the Senate immediately ad- 
journed, and the crowd dispersed. 

After the resignation of his seat in the Senate, Mr. Clay 
retired to private life. In 1844, he was the Whig candi- 
date for the Presidency, but was defeated by the election 
of James K. Polk. In December, 1848, Mr. Clay was again 
elected to the Senate of the United States by a unanimous 
vote. 

The senatorial life of Mr. Clay was one of lofty patriot- 

* When Mr. Clay ceased to speak, many rose to take him by the hand. 
His noble rival, Mr. Calhoun, walked across the floor, and offered his hand; it 
was cordially taken; but it is said that their mutual feelings overcame them* 
and they separated without the power of uttering a word. 



HENRY CLAY. 333 

ism. He always pursued the course which he thought was 
best for the whole country. However men may differ 
with regard to the expediency of his political principles 
no one can deny that he remained faithful to the last, to 
the Constitution and the Union. In the last years of his 
public career he was actively engaged in framing measures 
which he considered to be advantageous to the nation. To 
heal the controversy on the subject of slavery, which 
raged so high in Congress after the Mexican war, when the 
new territory was to be annexed to the Union, Mr. Clay 
offered in the Senate, on the 29th of January, 1850, a 
series of resolutions known as the Compromise. In sup- 
port of these resolutions he addressed the Senate on the 
5th and 6th of February. His speech on the Compromise 
is regarded as one of the ablest efforts he ever made in the 
Senate. It shows his strong attachment to the Union, and 
portrays in vivid colors the direful consequences which 
must follow its dissolution. We quote his closing remarks 
which, can not be too deeply imprinted on the mind of 
Americans — which will be read with interest by those 
who love the Union and the Constitution — who dread 
civil war as among the worst of human calamities — who 
ardently desire to see one great and glorious republic con- 
tinue to hold up the light of civil liberty as the beacon 
of oppressed nations, the hope and admiration of the 
world. 

" Mr. President, I have said what I solemnly believe — 
that the dissolution of this Union and war are identical 
and inseparable; that they are convertible terms. Such 
?, war, too, as that would be, following the dissolution of 
the Union! Sir, we may search the pages of history, and 
none so furious, so bloody, so implacable, so exterminating, 
from the wars of Greece down, including those of the 
Commonwealth of England, and the revolution of France — 
none, none of them raged with such violence, or was ever 



tf 8 4 )R ATORS AND STATESMEN. 

conducted with such bloodshed and enormities as will that 
war which shall follow that disastrous event — if that 
event ever happens — of dissolution. 

" And what would be its termination? Standing armies 
and navies, to an extent draining the revenues of each 
portion of the dissevered empire, would be created; ex- 
terminating wars would follow — not a war of two or 
three years, but of interminable duration — an extermi- 
nating war would follow, until some Philip or Alexander, 
some Caesar or Napoleon, would rise to cut the Gordian 
knot, and solve the problem of the capacity of man for 
self-government, and crush the liberties of both the dis- 
severed portions of this Union. Can you doubt it? Look 
at history — consult the pages of all history, ancient or 
modern; look at human nature — look at the character of 
the contest in which you would be engaged in the suppo- 
sition of a war following the dissolution of the Union, 
such as I have suggested — and I ask you if it is possible 
for you to doubt that the final but perhaps distant termi- 
nation of the whole will be some despot treading down 
the liberties of the people? — that the final result will be 
the extinction of this last and glorious light which is 
leading all mankind, who are gazing upon it, to cherish 
hope and anxious expectation that the liberty which pre- 
vails here will sooner or later be advanced throughout 
the civilized world? Can you, Mr. President, lightly con- 
template the consequences? Can you yield yourself to a 
torrent of passion, amidst dangers which I have depicted 
in colors far short of what, would be the reality, if the 
event should ever happen? I conjure gentlemen — whether 
from the South or the North, by all they hold dear in this 
world — by all their love of liberty — by all their venera- 
tion for their ancestors — by all their regard for pos- 
terity — by all their gratitude to Him who has bestowed 
upon them such unnumbered blessings — by all the duties 



HENRY CLAY. 335 

which tliey owe to mankind, and all the duties they owe 
to themselves — by all these considerations I implore them 
to pause — solemnly to pause — at the edge of the preci- 
pice, before the fearful and disastrous leap is taken in the 
yawning abyss below, w r hich will inevitably lead to certain 
and irretrievable destruction. 

" And, finally, Mr. President, I implore, as the best 
blessing which Heaven can bestow upon me upon earth, 
that if the direful and sad event of «the dissolution of the 
Union shall happen, I may not survive to behold the sad 
and heart-rending spectacle." 

The Compromise resolutions continued to be agitated 
in. Congress during the entire spring session of 1850. On 
the 13th of May, Mr. Clay made another speech on these 
resolutions, which was concluded as follows: 

" Mr. President, I trust that the feelings of attachment 
to the Union, of love for its past glory, of anticipation of 
its future benefits and happiness; a fraternal feeling which 
ought to be common throughout all parts of the country; 
the desire to live together in peace and harmony, to pros- 
per as we have prospered heretofore, to hold up to the 
civilized world the example of one great and glorious 
Pvepublic fulfilling the high destiny that belongs to it, de- 
monstrating beyond all doubt man's capacity for self- 
government; these motives and these considerations will, 
I confidently hope and fervently pray, animate us all, 
bringing us together to dismiss alike the questions of ab- 
straction and form, and consummating the act of concord, 
harmony, and peace, in such a manner as to heal not one 
only, but all the wounds of the country." 

The arduous and incessant duties of the Senate doubtless 
tended to impair the health of Mr. Clay, which, from this 
period gradually declined till his decease, which took place 
on the morning of the 29th of June, 1852, in the seventy- 
sixth year of his age. 
49 



386 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

When his death was announced in Congress, several 
eloquent tributes were paid to his memory by distinguished 
members of both Houses. In the House of Representa- 
tives Mr. Breckenridge of Kentucky bore the following 
testimony to the serenity of his mind in relation to his 
prospects beyond the grave: " Not long before his death, 
having just returned from Kentucky, I bore to him a token 
of affection from his excellent wife. Never can I forget 
his appearance, his manner, or his words. After speaking 
of his family, his friends, and his country, he changed the 
conversation to his own future, and looking on me with 
his fine eye undimmed, and his voice full of its original 
compass and melody, he said, ' I am not afraid to die, sir. 
I have hope, faith, and some confidence. I do not think 
any man can be entirely certain in regard to his future 
state, but I have an abiding trust in the merits and media- 
tion of our Savior.' " 

This statement was corroborated by the declaration of 
Mr. Venable of North Carolina, who followed the Senator 
from Kentucky in an eloquent eulogy: " It was my privi- 
lege, also, a short time since, to converse with this dis- 
tinguished statesman on the subject of his hopes in a future 
state. Feeling a deep interest, I asked him frankly what 
were his hopes in the world to which he was evidently 
hastening. * I am pleased,' said he, ' my friend, that you 
have introduced the subject. Conscious that I must die 
very soon, I love to meditate upon the most important of 
all interests I love to converse and to hear conversations 
about them. The vanity of the world, and its insufficiency 
to satisfy the soul of man, has been long a settled convic- 
tion of my mind. Man's inability to secure by his own 
merits the approbation of God, I feel to be true. I trust 
in the atonement of the Savior of men, as the ground of 
my acceptance and my hope of salvation. My faith is 
feeble, but I hope in His mercy and trust in His promises.' 



HENRY CLAY. 387 

To such declarations I listened with the deepest interest, 
as I did on another occasion, when he said: ' I am willing 
to abide the will of Heaven,, and ready to die when that 
will shall determine it.' " 

In the Senate, Mr. Underwood, his colleague, spoke of 
the high character of Mr. Clay's eloquence when pro- 
nouncing his eulogy: "At the bar and in the General 
Assembly of Kentucky, Mr. Clay first manifested those 
high qualities as a public speaker which have secured to 
him so much popular applause and admiration. His 
physical and mental organization eminently qualified him 
to become a great and impressive orator. His person was 
tall, slender and commanding. His temperament ardent, 
fearless, and full of hope. His countenance, clear, ex- 
pressive, and variable — indicated the emotion which pre- 
dominated at the moment with exact similitude. His 
voice, cultivated and modulated in harmony with the 
sentiment he desired to express, fell upon the ear like the 
melody of enrapturing music. His eye beaming with in- 
telligence and flashing with coruscations of genius. His 
gestures and attitudes graceful and natural. These per- 
sonal advantages won the prepossession of an audience, 
even before his intellectual powers began to move his 
hearers; and when his strong common sense, his profound 
reasoning, his clear conceptions of his subject in all its 
bearings, and his striking and beautiful illustrations, 
united with such personal qualities, were brought to the 
discussion of any question, his audience was enraptured, 
convinced, and led by the orator as if enchanted by the 
lyre of Orpheus." 

It is hardly necessary to say that the news of Mr. Clay's 
death was received throughout the country with tears. 
His loss was mourned every where. It was truly a national 
calamity. On the 10th of July, 1852, the remains of the 



aSS ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Patriot, Orator and Statesman of Ashland were deposited 
in the cemetery at Lexington, Kentucky. 

The eloquence of Henry Clay was of the very highest 
order. It was of that impassioned kind which always 
commands the admiration of the multitude — which goes 
directly to the heart with irresistible, captivating power. 
We believe that no political orator of our day has been 
listened to with such extreme pleasure as Mr. Clay. This 
is the testimony of those who have been so happy as to 
hear him in public address. All the charms of a perfect 
orator were united in him. He had an absolute control 
over his audience. All felt the potency of his burning 
eloquence. By its secret, fascinating influence he could 
excite in the bosom of his auditors, hope or fear, joy or 
sorrow, courage or despair. He could instruct, convince, 
arouse and subdue the mind. At one time, with apparent 
ease, he could move his hearers to tears, and, perhaps in 
the very next moment, convulse them with laughter. 
Such power none but the most accomplished orator can 
possess. This perfect control over the passions of men 
rendered the eloquence of Mr. Clay so popular and effect- 
ive. He was, in an especial manner, the delight and idol 
of popular assemblies. He was emphatically the orator 
of the people. In traveling through the country he was 
every where received with enthusiastic applause by ad- 
miring crowds. 

6 ' I have seen 
The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind 
To hear him speak: the matrons flung their glcves, 
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
Upon him as he passed. The nobles bended, 
As to Jove's statue; and the commons made 
A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts: 
I never saw the like." 

Our limits permit us to mention only a few of the most 



HENRY CLAY. 389 

prominent characteristics of Mr. Clay's oratory. In the 
first place, he was indebted, in no small degree, for the 
magical effects of his eloquence, to a deep, sweet-toned 
voice.* It would be impossible to describe the wonderful 
effects of those melodious strains with which he so often 
thrilled the heart of an audience. How delightful was it 
to listen to a voice of such surpassing melody! The utter- 
ance of Mr. Clay was most charming: 

u But when he speaks, what elocution flows, 
Soft as the fleeces of descending snows; 
The copious accents fall with easy art, 
Melting they fall and sink into the heart." 

What astonishing effects have been produced by such a 
voice! Much of the force, splendor, and fascination of 
the oratory of Chatham, Sheridan, Erskine, Henry, and 
Ames, arose from their tones of music. This was, perhaps, 
the most captivating attribute of their matchless elo- 
quence. 

A biographer of Mr. Clay, in noticing his character has 
the following remarks on his living voice: " The voice of 
Mr. Clay has been one of great melody, compass and 
power. With a foundation of low bass, deep and strong, 
it has been capable of rising to the sharp falsetto, every 
note in the scale musical and far-reaching. Within this 
compass, lies the power of expressing all human feelings 
and passions. The penetrating character of Mr. Clay's 
voice has been considered remarkable, its common collo- 
quial notes, being equal in their effect, in the same circum- 

* The voice requires to be sweet as well as strong in an accomplished ora- 
tor . — Quintilia n . 

" The voice of Mr. Clay was sonorous and musical, falling with proper 
cadence from the highest to the lowest tones ; at times when in narrative or 
description, modulated, smooth and pleasing, like sounds of running water-, 
but when raised to animate and cheer, it was as clear and spirit-stirring as the 
notes of a clarion, the House all the while ringing with its melody." 



390 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

stances, to that of the greatest physical exertion of most 
men. Spectators in the galleries of the senate-chamber, 
have often heard his private talk at his desk below, while 
another senator was making a speech. In regard to the 
modulation of his voice for oratorical purposes, instructed 
by nature rather than art, and employing his vocal powers 
chiefly for the practical uses of society, of the forum, and 
of public debate, Mr. Clay has always escaped the vices 
of tune or song. Hence his elocution has been felt to be 
natural, and has consequently been effective. 1 ' 

The gifted author of the Living Orators in America 
observes to the same effect: " Mr. Clay's voice has pro- 
digious power, compass, and richness; all its variations 
are captivating, but some of its base tones thrill through 
one's whole frame. To those who have never heard the 
living melody, no verbal description can convey an ade- 
quate idea of the diversified effect of those intonations 
which in one strain of sentiment fall in whispering gen- 
tleness, * like the first words of love upon a maiden's 
lips,' and anon, in sterner utterances, ' ring with the mad- 
dening music of the main.'* The magician is well aware 
of the seductive power of his voice, and employs it with 
great effect in the moderate, as well as the most impassioned 
portions of his speeches. Such is its fascination, that the 
most familiar expressions take from it an air of novelty 
and dignity, and the more excitable in the audience, wait- 
ing for an eloquential pause, would say: 

* "Once, in defending a favorite bill, Mr. Clay had to encounter much 
and strong opposition, at the head of which stood Daniel Webster. The col- 
lision of these eloquent and intellectual giants, is said to have been incon- 
ceivably grand. Says a gentleman who witnessed it, ; the eloquence of Mr. 
Webster was the majestic roar of a strong and steady blast, pealing through 
the forest; but that of Mr. Clay was the tone of a god-like instrument, some- 
times visited by an angel touch, and swept anon by all the fury of the raging 
elements.' w 



HENRY CLAY. 391 

1 Thv sweet words drop upon the ear as soft 
As rose leaves on a well: and I could listen, 
As though the immortal melody of Heaven 
Were wrought into one word — that word a whisper, 
That whisper all I want from all I love.' " 

Another charm of Mr. Clay's eloquence was an admira- 
ble delivery. His action was pleasing, impressive and 
noble. His gestures were those of a natural orator. There 
was a language in his very look and action, which could 
not be misinterpreted — a language which carried force 
and conviction to the heart. A writer already quoted re- 
marked of his manner: " Nothing can be more captivat- 
ing than the smiles that sometimes light up his counte- 
nance while speaking, not unfrequently succeeded by 
frowns as impressive, which outward language is as inti- 
mately mixed and strikingly expressed as the latent emo- 
tions of his mind. It presents a pleasing series of effects, 
constituting diversified transitions and perpetual progress, 
each gleam, when its end is attained, giving place to 
another, and leaving no trace behind: 

1 Brief as the lightning in the collied night, 
That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth; 
And ere a man has time to say, behold! 
The jaws of darkness do devour it up. 1 " 

Quintilian, in a chapter on the best manner of deliver- 
ing a discourse, says, that almost every part of an orator 
ought to speak; for all the passions which w r e possess 
must languish, unless they are kept alive by the glow of 
voice, look, and action.* " A manifest harmony existed 
between the suggestions of Mr. Clay's mind and the move- 
ments of his limbs, and this imparted an indescribable 
charm to his action. He did not vociferate with weary 
lungs and sweating brow, at the same time standing with 

* Institutes of Oratory, lib. xi, chap. Li. 



392 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

listless hands, and elbows turned to his hips. Whenever 
he was in earnest, he talked all over, and there was a 
language in his limbs which said as clearly as that of 
the lips * these were given to clasp the beautiful and cleave 
the wave.' " He did not suffer hi« own passions, nor those 
of his hearers to be unmoved. In public speaking, he was 
all animation; and, by the spell of his impassioned elo- 
quence, he communicated his radiant thoughts with the 
greatest ease and rapidity, to the rapt minds of his audi- 
tors.* His melodious tones, his beaming eye, his glowing 
countenance, his vehement gestures and fluent speech, 
were the most illustrious qualities of that eloquence with 
which he so often commanded the applause of listening 
senates, and the acclamation of the multitude. 

Mr. Colton, in his Life and Times of Henry Clay — a 
work which was published before the demise of the states- 
man, — gives a very vivid description of his manner in 
public speaking: " The attributes of Mr. Clay's elo- 
quence, extend to a wider range than that of voice. His 
person, tall, erect, commanding; his countenance, as well 
as his voice, capable of expressing every feeling and 
passion of the human soul, pleasure or pain, satisfaction 
or discontent, hope or fear, desire or aversion, complacency 
or contempt, love or hatred, joy or grief, ecstacy or anguish, 
valor or cowardice, kindness or cruelty, pity or revenge, 
resolution or despair; his large mouth, and swollen upper 

* Nature has given every passion its peculiar expression in the look, the 
voice, and the gesture; and the whole frame, the look and the voice of a man, 
are responsive to the passions of the mind, as the strings of the musical instru- 
ment are to the ringers that touch them. For as the musical instrument has 
its different keys, so every voice is sharp, full, quick, slow, loud, or low, and 
each of these keys has different degrees: which beget other strains, such as 
tne smooth and the sharp, the contracted and lengthened, the continued and 
interrupted, the broken and divided, the tender, the shrill, and the swelling; 
all these require to be managed with art and discretion. And the orator makes 
use of them, as the painter does of his colors, to give variety to his piece. — 
Cicero de Orctore. lib. iii, c. 57. 



h£NRY CLAY. 393 

lip, working quietly or in agony, as occasions require; his 
eye, resting in calmness, or beaming with lively emotion, 
or sparkling with strong feeling, or flashing with high 
passion like the thunderbolts of heaven in the darkness 
of the storm; his arms, now hanging easy by his side, now 
outstretched, now uplifted, now waving with grace, or 
striking with the vehemence of passion; his finger point- 
ing where his piercing thoughts direct; the easy, or quiet, 
or violent movements of his whole frame; the bending of 
his body forward, or sidewise, or backward; the down- 
ward or upward look; the composed, or suffused, or im- 
passioned countenance; the watchful, shifting glances, 
taking in the field of vision, and making each one feel 
that he is seen and individually addressed; the theme; 
himself; his audience; his fame; his position on the sub- 
ject in debate or under discussion; his relation to the 
assembly or body before him; the respect and esteem in 
which he is held by them; his dignity, courtesy, defer- 
ence; his disinterestedness, his philanthropy, his patriot- 
ism; — all these, and many others that might be named, 
are among the attributes of Mr. Clay's eloquence, and 
appertain to that accumulation and concentration of in- 
fluences, which have given his popular harangues, his 
forensic efforts, his various public addresses, and his par- 
liamentary speeches, so much power over the minds, the 
hearts, and the actions of his countrymen." 

In contemplating Mr. Clay in 1840, a reviewer writes: 
" He loves to move on the surface of our earth, and amid 
the throng of fellow-men; or if at any time disposed to 
climb, 'tis only to some sunny hill-top, that he may get a 
wider view of the busy, happy scene below. He is the 
orator of popular principles* and of common sense. His 

* Rufus Choate, when speaking of the principles of Henry Clay, once re- 
marked-. " They rise like the peaks of a, lofty mountain-range, from the table- 
laud of all illustrious life." 

50 



394 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

views are expansive, rather than deep — his grasp of sub- 
ject not so strong as it is broad. He needs no interpreter 
to make more clear his meaning, nor any other index to 
the kindness of his character, than his homely, but open 
and expressive face. As a speaker, his style is Cicero- 
nean; graceful and winning, rather than impetuous. Witty 
and powerful at repartee, he is more skillful and ready in 
the skirmish of debate than either of his great com 
petitors." 



CHAPTER XVI. 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 

John C Calhoun was born in Abbeville District, South 
Carolina, on the 18th of March, 1782. At the age of 
thirteen, he commenced his academical course of instruc- 
tion under the care of his brother-in-law, the Rev. Dr. 
Waddel, who had opened an academy in Columbia county, 
Georgia. Here, Mr. Calhoun became a diligent and per- 
severing student. Here too, he acquired that fondness for 
historical and metaphysical studies, which he always 
cherished through life. Enjoying the benefit of a public 
library, he occupied himself with the perusal of the best 
and most substantial works, to the entire exclusion of 
light literature. So closely did he apply himself to the 
study of his favorite authors, that, in the course of four- 
ten weeks, he read Rollin's Ancient History, Robertson's 
Charles V, and America, Voltaire's Charles XII, the large 
edition of Cook's Voyages, Brown's Essays, Locke on the 
Human Understanding, and several other works.* 

While Mr. Calhoun remained under the care of Dr. 
Waddel, he prosecuted his studies with such untiring dili- 

* Mr. Calhoun, when a lad, gave great promise of future eminence in the 
intellectual world. Not many, even of the most illustrious in the highest 
walks of scholarship, have had their metaphysical acumen so early developed. 
There are, on record, however, a few noble instances of the precociousness of 
intellect, especially in those who, like Calhoun, have been renowned for their 
uncommon genius. It is said that the celebrated Robert Hall perused Edwards 
on the Will, and Butler's Analogy with intense interest before he was nine 



396 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

gence and perseverance that he well-nigh rui ed his con- 
stitution. 

" So intense was his application that his eyes became 
seriously affected, his countenance pallid, and his frame 
emaciated. His mother, alarmed at the intelligence of his 
health, sent for him home, where exercise and amusement 
soon restored his strength, and he acquired a fondness for 
hunting, fishing, and other country sports. Four years 
passed away in these pursuits, and in attention to the busi- 
ness of the farm while his elder brothers were absent, to 
the entire neglect of his education. But the time was not 
lost. Exercise and rural sports invigorated his frame, 
while his labors on the farm gave him a taste for agricul- 
ture, which he always retained, and in the pursuit of 
which he found delightful occupation for his intervals of 
leisure from public duties. 

" About this time an incident occurred upon which 
turned his after life. His second brother, James, who had 
been placed at a counting-house in Charleston, returned 
to spend the summer of 1800 at home. John had deter- 
mined to become a planter; but James, objecting to this, 
strongly urged him to acquire a good education, and pur- 
sue one of the learned professions. He replied that he 
was not averse to the course advised, but there were two 
difficulties in the way: one was to obtain the assent of his 
mother, without which he could not think of leaving her, 
and the other was the want of means. His property was 
small, and his resolution fixed: he would far rather be a 
planter than a half-informed physician or lawyer. With 
this determination, he could not bring his mind to select 
either without ample preparation; but if the consent of 

years old; and that the elder President Edwards, who resembled Calhoun in 
the metaphysical cast and vigor of his mind, read Lock on the Understanding, 
with uncommon delight, at the age of thirteen, manifesting at the same age, 
extraordinary vigor of intellect. 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 397 

their mother should be freely given, and he (James) 
thought he could so manage his property as to keep him in 
funds for seven years of study, preparatory to entering his 
profession, he would leave home and commence his edu- 
cation the next week. His mother and brother agreeing to 
his conditions, he accordingly left home the next week 
for Dr. Waddell's. This was in June, 1800, in the begin- 
ning of his, nineteenth year, at which time it may be said 
he commenced his education, his tuition having been pre- 
viously very imperfect, and confined to reading, writing, 
and arithmetic, in an ordinary country school. His pro- 
gress here was so rapid that in two years he entered the 
junior class of Yale College, and graduated with dis- 
tinction in 1804, just four years from the time he com- 
menced his Latin grammar. He was highly esteemed by 
Dr. Dvright, then the president of the college, although 
they differed widely in politics, and at a time when politi- 
cal feelings were intensely bitter. The doctor was an 
ardent Federalist, and Mr. Calhoun was one of a very few, 
in a class of more than seventy, who had the firmness 
openly to avow and maintain the opinions of the Republi- 
can party, and, among others, that the people were the 
only legitimate source of political power. Dr. Dwight en- 
tertained a different opinion. In a recitation during the 
senior year, on the chapter on Politics in Paley's Moral 
Philosophy, the doctor, with the intention of eliciting his 
opinion, propounded to Mr. Calhoun the question, as to 
the legitimate source of power. He did not decline an 
open and direct avowal of his opinion. A discussion en- 
sued between them, which exhausted the time alotted for 
the recitation, and in which the pupil maintained his 
opinions with such vigor of argument and success, as to 
elicit from his distinguished teacher the declaration, in 
speaking of him to a friend, that the young man had 
talent enough t< n >e President of the United States, which 



3 9 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

he accompanied by a prediction that he would one day 
attain that station."* 

After he had completed his College course, Mr. Calhoun 
entered the celebrated law school at Litchfield, Connecti- 
cut. ..." At this school he acquired and maintained a high 
reputation for ability and application, and in the debating 
society formed among its members, he successfully culti- 
vated his talents for extemporary speaking, and in this 
respect is admitted to have excelled all his associates." 

After leaving Litchfield he completed his legal studies 
in the office of Mr. De Saussure, and of Mr. George Bowie, 
of Abbeville, and was admitted to the bar in 1807. 

In the very commencement of his forensic career he 
took a place in the foremost rank of his profession, and 
acquired a high reputation. But his attention was soon 
turned to political affairs by an incident which occurred 
about this time and which is worthy of notice here: 

" While he was yet a student," says the memoir before 
quoted, " after his return from Litchfield to Abbeville, an 
incident occurred which agitated the whole Union, and 
contributed to give to Mr. Calhoun's life, at that early 
j^eriod, the political direction which it has ever since 
kept — the attack of the English frigate Leopard on the 
American frigate Chesapeake. It led to public meetings 
all over the Union, in which resolutions were passed ex- 
pressive of the indignation of the people, and their firm 
resolve to stand by the government in whatever measure 
it might think proper to adopt to redress the outrage. At 
that called in his native district, he was appointed one of 
the committee to prepare a report and resolutions to be 
presented to a meeting to be convened to receive them on 
an appointed day. Mr. Calhoun was requested by the com- 
mittee to prepare them, which he did so much to their 

* Biographical Sketch of Mr. Calhoun, 1843. 



JCHN C. CALHOUN. * 399 

satisfaction, that he was appointed to address the meeting 
on the occasion before the vote was taken on the resolu- 
tions. The meeting was large, and it was the first time 
he had ever appeared before the public. He acquitted 
himself with such success that his name was presented as 
a candidate for the State Legislature at the next election. 
He was elected at the head of the ticket, and at a time 
when the prejudice against lawyers was so strong in the 
district that no one of the profession who had offered for 
many years previously had ever succeeded. This was the 
commencement of his political life, and the first evidence 
he ever received of the confidence of the people of the 
state — a confidence which has continued ever since, con- 
stantly increasing, without interruption or reaction, for 
the third of a century; and which, for its duration, uni- 
versality, and strength, may be said to be without a parallel 
in any other state, or in the case of any other public 
man." 

At the time of his election to the State Legislature of 
South Carolina, Mr. Calhoun was but twenty -five years of 
age. During the two sessions which he served in the Le- 
gislature, he took an active part in the leading measures, 
and was ranked among the ablest of the members. " Give 
a man nerve," says an eloquent writer, " a presence, sway 
over language, and, above all, enthusiasm, or the skill 
to stimulate it; start him in the public arena with these 
requisites, and ere many years, perhaps many months, have 
passed, you will either see him in high station, or in a fair 
way of rising to it."* 

" In none of these essentials to success was Mr. Calhoun 
wanting, as those who knew him will promp]y bear wit- 
ness- He had nerve and intrepidity, enthusiasm, the air 
of one born to command, and fine argumentative powers, 

* Francis' Orators of the Age. 



400 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and his words were like the verba ardentia of Cicero, cap- 
tivating and convincing, melting all hearts and fairly- 
burning into every ear that listened." 

But higher offices and higher honors awaited him. In 
1811, Mr. Calhoun took his seat in Congress, having been 
elected as a representative of his congressional district, by a 
triumphant majority He was immediately appointed by the 
speaker, Henry Clay, on the committe of Foreign Affairs. 
His maiden speech, a report of which has been preserved, 
was made on the 19th of December, in behalf of the war 
resolutions. It was a reply to an able and eloquent speech 
of Hon. John Randolph, one of the most sarcastic and 
brilliant orators of his day. The subject was one of un- 
usual interest. " Public excitement," says a historian, 
" was strong, the house crowded, and the orator, rising 
with the greatness of the occasion, delivered a speech, 
which for lofty patriotism, cogent reasoning, and soul- 
stirring eloquence, has seldom been equaled. It met un- 
bounded and universal applause. He was compared to 
' one of the old sages of the old Congress, with the graces 
of youth,' and the ' young Carolinian ' was hailed as ' one 
of the master spirits, w r ho stamp their name upon the age 
in which they live.' " 

Mr. Calhoun gave the declaration of war against Great 
Britain his earnest support. This war, as is well known, 
had many able opponents in Congress. The opposition 
raised the loudest cry against its prosecution, after the 
brilliant triumphs of England over France, and the down- 
fall of Bonaparte in 1813. They imagined that all was 
hopeless, " now that the whole power of the British Em- 
pire would be brought to bear against us." In his speech 
on the Loan Bill, Mr. Calhoun replied to their arguments 
in a nios-t masterly manner. " None can read this speech, 
even at this distance of time, without kindling under that 
elevated tone of feeling, which wisdom, emanating from a 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 401 

spirit lofty and self-possessed under the most hying cir- 
cumstances, only can inspire. In order to show the justice 
and expediency of the war, he took a historical view of 
the maritime usurpations of Great Britain, from the cele- 
brated order in council of 1756, to the time of the discus- 
sion, and demonstrated that her aggressions were not acci- 
dental, or dependent on peculiar circumstances, but were 
the result of a fixed system of policy, intended to establish 
her supremacy on the ocean. After giving a luminous 
view of the origin and character of the wrongs we had 
suffered from her, he clearly showed the rlimsiness of the 
pretext by which she sought to justiiy her conduct, as 
well as that of the opposition to excuse her, and dwelt 
upon the folly of hoping to obtain redress by sheathing 
the sword or throwing ourselves on her justice." 

This was one of the most eloquent and patriotic efforts 
that Mr. Calhoun ever made. It animated the drooping 
spirits of his countrymen in one of the most dismal periods 
of the war. The following remarks — worthy of a Chat- 
ham—afford a beautiful specimen of our orator's style, 
and will ever remain as a fine example of his lofty, patri- 
otic, and animating eloquence. 

In the conclusion of his speech Mr. Calhoun spoke as 
follows: " This country is left alone to support the rights 
of neutrals. Perilous is the condition, and arduous the 
task. We are not intimidated. We stand opposed to 
British usurpation, and, by our spirit and efforts, have 
done all in our power to save the last vestiges of neutral 
rights. Yes, our embargoes, non-intercourse, non-impor- 
tation, and, finally, war, are all manly exertions to preserve 
the rights of this and other nations from the deadly grasp 
of British maritime policy. But (say our opponents), 
these efforts are lost, and our condition hopeless. If so, 
it only remains for us to assume the garb of our condition. 

We must submit, humbly submit, crave pardon and hug 
51 



402 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

our chains. It is not wise to provoke where we can not 
resist. But first let us be well assured of the hopelessness 
of our state before we sink into submission. On what do 
our opponents rest their despondent and slavish belief? 
On the recent events in Europe? I admit they are great, 
and well calculated to impose on the imagination. Our 
enemy never presented a more imposing exterior. His 
fortune is at the flood. But I am admonished by universal 
experience, that such prosperity is the most precarious of 
human conditions. From the flood the tide dates its ebb. 
From the meridian the sun commences its decline. Depend 
upon it, there is more of sound philosophy than of fiction 
in the fickleness which poets attribute to fortune. Pros- 
perity has its weakness, adversity its strength. In many 
respects our enemy has lost by those very changes which 
seem so much in his favor. He can no more claim to be 
struggling for existence; no more to be fighting the battles 
of the world in defense of the liberties of mankind. The 
magic cry of ' French influence ' is lost. In this very hall 
we are not strangers to that sound. Here, even here, the 
cry of ' French influence,' that baseless fiction, that phan- 
tom of faction now banished, often resounded. I rejoice 
that the spell is broken by which it was attempted to bind 
the spirit of this youthful nation. The minority can no 
longer act under cover, but must come out and defend 
their opposition on its own intrinsic merits. Our example 
can scarcely fail to produce its effects on other nations 
interested in the maintenance of maritime rights. But if, 
unfortunately, we should be left alone to maintain the 
contest, and if, which may God forbid, necessity should 
compel us to yield for the present, yet our generous efforts 
will not have been lost. A mode of thinking and a tone 
of sentiment have gone abroad which must stimulate to 
future and more successful struggles. What could not be 
effected with eight millions of people will be done with 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 403 

twenty. The great cause will never be yielded — rco, never, 
never! Sir, I hear the future audibly announced in the 
past — in the splendid victories over the Guerriere, Jav 7 a, 
and Macedonian. We, and all nations, by these victories, 
are taught a lesson never to be forgotten. Opinion is 
power. The charm of British naval invincibility is gone." 

" Such was the animated strain by which Mr. Calhoun 
roused the spirit of the government and country under a 
complication of adverse circumstances calculated to over- 
whelm the feeble and appal the stoutest. Never faltering, 
never doubting, never despairing of the Republic, he was 
at once the hope of the party and the beacon light to the 
country;" 

After a brilliant congressional career of six years, Mr. 
Calhoun was appointed to the office of Secretary of War, 
by President Monroe, in December, 1817. In 1825, he was 
elected Vice-President; and again in 1828; but before the 
expiration of his last term, the troubles which threat- 
ened the integrity of the Union, commenced in South 
Carolina. At the call of his countrymen, Mr. Calhoun re- 
signed the office of Vice-President, and w T as elected to 
the Senate of the United States as the successor of Col. 
Hayne, w T ho, to meet the emergency, had been chosen 
Governor of his native state. 

On the passage of the famous Ordinance of Nullifica- 
tion by the people of South Carolina, the excitement 
throughout the Union became intense. The most fearful 
apprehension of a civil war, and of the dissolution of the 
Union, prevailed every w r here. 

On the 10th of December, 1832, Gen. Jackson issued his 
memorable proclamation against nullification. This w T as 
followed by Gov. Hayne's counter-proclamation, " defend- 
ing the position assumed by the state, and calling out 
twelve thousand volunteers." 

" The ' crisis ' evidently approached. The United States' 



404 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

troops were concentrated, in some force, at Augusta and 
Charleston, seemingly for the purpose of repressing any 
insurrectionary or rebellious movement in the State ; while 
on the other side, equal preparation was made. The 
militia in certain sections of the State were called out and 
drilled, muskets were put in order, swords cleaned and 
sharpened, and depots of provisions and supplies estab- 
lished. Officers, natives of the State, in the army and 
navy of the United States contemplated resigning their 
commissions, and flying to the defense of the State. While 
some foreign officers, then in the country, actually ten- 
dered their services to the governor, against the forces of 
the general government." 

On the 4th of January, 1833, Mr. Calhoun took his seat 
in the Senate of the Union, as the great champion of Nul- 
lification. We have now arrived at the most important 
period in his political life — a period when the whole 
resources of his mighty intellect were put forth in defense 
of his favorite doctrine. His most powerful oratorical 
effort was made on the 15th and 16th of February, 1832, 
against a bill " further to provide for the Collection of 
Duties on Imports." This w r as the celebrated Force Bill, 
introduced by Mr. Wilkins of Pennsylvania,- the object 
of which was to enable the federal executive to enforce the 
collection of the revenue in South Carolina. 

The speech of Mr. Calhoun against the Force Bill, fur- 
nishes us with the best specimens of his style. " On this, 
the greatest occasion of his intellectual and political life, 
lie bore himself proudly and gloriously. He appeared to 
hold victory at his command, and yet determined, withal, 
to show that he deserved it There was a strength, in his 
argument that seemed the exhaustion of thought, and a 
frequency of nervous diction most appropriate for its ex- 
pression. The extreme mobility of his nil id was felt every 
where and immediate. It passed from declamation to in- 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 405 

vective, and from invective to argument, rapidly, but not 
confusedly, exciting and filling the imagination of all. 

" In his tempestuous eloquence, he tore to pieces the 
arguments of his opponents, as the hurricane rends the 
sails. Nothing withstood the ardor of his mind; no 
sophistry, however ingenious, puzzled him ,• no rhetorical 
ruse escaped his detection. He overthrew logic that 
seemed impregnable, and demolished the most compact 
theory, in a breath." 

On the 15th of February Mr. Calhoun rose and addressed 
the Senate as follows: " Mr. President, I know not which 
is most objectionable, the provisions of the bill, or the 
temper in which its adoption has been urged. If the ex- 
traordinary powers with which the bill proposes to clothe 
the Executive, to the utter prostration of the Constitution 
and the rights of the States, be calculated to impress our 
minds with alarm at the rapid progress of despotism in 
our country, the zeal with which every circumstance 
calculated to misrepresent or exaggerate the conduct of 
Carolina in the controversy is seized on, with a view to 
excite hostility against her, but too plainly indicates the 
deep decay of that brotherly feeling which once existed 
between these States, and to which we are indebted for our 
beautiful federal system,"* 

We quote the following as the most eloquent and forci- 
ble passages of this extraordinary speech: " Having made 
these remarks, the great question is now presented, Has 
Congress the right to pass this bill? which I will next 
proceed to consider. The decision of this question in- 
volves the inquiry into the provisions of the bill. What 
are they? It puts at the disposal of the President the army 
and navy, and the entire militia of the country; it enables 
him, at his pleasure, to subject every man in the United 

* A more ingenious, yet seemingly less studied exordium will scarcely be 
found recorded in parliamentary annals. — March. 



4 G ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

States, not exempt from militia duty, to martial law: to 
call him from his ordinary occupation to the field, and 
under the penalty of fine and imprisonment, inflicted by 
a court-martial, to compel him to imbrue his hand in his 
brother's blood. There is no limitation on the power of 
the sword, and that over the purse is equally without re- 
straint; for, among the extraordinary features of the bill, 
it contains no appropriation, which, under existing cir- 
cumstances, is tantamount to an unlimited appropriation. 
The President may, under its authority, incur any expendi- 
ture, and pledge the national faith to support it. He may 
create a new national debt, at the very moment of the 
termination of the former — a debt of millions, to be paid 
out of the proceeds of the labor of that section of the 
country whose dearest constitutional rights this bill pros- 
trates! Thus exhibiting the extraordinary spectacle, that 
the very section of the country which is urging this 
measure, and carrying the sword of devastation against 
us, are, at the same time, incurring a new debt, to be paid 
by those whose rights are violated; while those who vio- 
late them are to receive the benefits, in the shape of boun- 
ties and expenditures. 

" And for what purpose is the unlimited control of the 
purse and of the sword thus placed at the disposition of 
the executive? To make war against one of the free and 
sovereign members of this confederation, which the bill 
proposes to deal with, not as a state, but as a collection of 
banditti or outlaws. Thus exhibiting the impious spectacle 
of this government, the creature of the states, making war 
against the power to which it owes its existence. 

" The bill violates the Constitution, plainly and palpably, 
in many of its provisions, by authorizing the President, at 
his pleasure, to place the different ports of this Union on 
an unequal footing, contrary to that provision of the Con- 
stitution w T hich declares that no preference shall be given 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 407 

to one port over another. It also violates the Constitution 
by authorizing him, at his discretion, to impose cash 
duties on one port, while credit is allowed in others; by 
enabling the President to regulate commerce, a power 
vested in Congress alone; and by drawing within the 
jurisdiction of the United States courts powers never in- 
tended to be conferred on them. As great as these objec- 
tions are, they become insignificant in the provisions of a 
bill which, by a single blow — by treating the states as a 
mere lawless set of individuals — prostrates all the bar- 
riers of the Constitution. I will pass over the minor con- 
siderations, and proceed directly to the great point. This 
bill proceeds on the ground that the entire sovereignty 
of this country belongs to the American people, as form- 
ing one great community, and regards the states as mere 
fractions or counties, and not as an integral part of the 
Union: having no more right to resist the encroachments 
of a government than a county has to resist the authority 
of a state; and treating such resistance as the lawless acts 
of so many individuals, without possessing sovereignty or 
political rights. It has been said that the bill declares 
war against South Carolina. No. It decrees a massacre 
of her citizens ! War has something ennobling about it, 
and, with all its horrors, brings into action the highest 
qualities, intellectual and moral. It was, perhaps, in the 
order of Providence that it should be permitted for that 
very purpose. But this bill declares no war, except, in- 
deed, it be that which savages wage — a war, not against 
the community, but the citizens of whom that community 
is composed. But I regard it as worse than savage war- 
fare — as an attempt to take away life under the color of 
law, without the trial by jury, or any other safeguard 
which the Constitution has thrown around the life of the 
citizen! It authorizes the President, or even his deputies, 
when they may suppose the law to be violated, without the 



408 ORATORS AXD STATESMEN. 

intervention of a court or jury, to kill without mercy or 
discrimination. 

" It lias been said by the senator from Tennessee (Mr. 
Grundy), to be a measure of peace! Yes, such peace as 
the wolf gives to the lamb — the kite to the dove. Such 
peace as Russia gives to Poland, or death to its victim ! 
A peace, by extinguishing the political existence of the 
state, by awing her into an abandonment of the exercise 
of every power which constitutes her a sovereign commu- 
nity. It is to South Carolina a question of self-preserva- 
tion; and I proclaim it, that should this bill pass, and an 
attempt be made to enforce it, it will be resisted at every 
hazard — even that of death itself. Death is not the 
greatest calamity: there are others still more terrible to 
the Lee and brave, and among them maybe placed the 
loss of liberty and honor. There are thousands of her 
brave sons who, if need be, are prepared cheerfully to lay 
down their lives in defense of the state, and the great 
principles of constitutional liberty for which she is con- 
lending. God forbid that this should become necessary! 
It never can be, unless this government is resolved to 
bring the question to extremity, when her gallant sons 
will stand prepared to perform the last duty — to die 
nobly.* 

" It is said that the bill ought to pass, because the law 
must be enforced. The law must be enforced. The im- 
perial edict must be executed. It is under such sophis- 
try, couched in general terms, without looking to the 

* The crowd was great in the Senate chamber during Mr. Calhoun's 
speech; in the galleries more particularly. While he was uttering some of his 
brilliant periods, in the very torrent, tempest, and whirlwind of his eloquence, 
a man in the gallery suddenly confounded the audience by exclaiming, in a 
shriek-like voice, " Mr. President!" and before the presiding officer could take 
measures to repress the outrage, he continued, "Mr. President, something 
must be done, or I shall be squeezed to death! ' It was some time before order 
could be restored, or the dignity o r tbe Senate re-established. The ludicrcus 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 408 

limitations which must ever exist in the practical exercise 
of power, that the most cruel and despotic acts ever have 
been covered. It was such sophistry as this that cast 
Daniel into the lion's den, and the three Innocents into 
the fiery furnace. Under the same sophistry the bloody 
edicts of Nero and Caligula were executed. The law must 
be enforced. Yes, the act imposing the 4 tea tax must be 
executed.' This was the very argument which impelled 
Lord North and his administration in that mad career 
which forever separated us from the British crown. Under 
a similar sophistry, ' that religion must be protected ' how- 
many massacres have been perpetrated? and how many 
martyrs have been tied to the stake? What! acting on 
this vague abstraction, are you prepared to enforce a law 
without considering whether it be just or unjust, consti- 
tutional or unconstitutional? Will you collect money 
when it is acknowledged that it is not wanted? He who 
earns the money, who digs it from the earth with the sweat 
of his brow, has a just title to it against the universe. No 
one has a right to touch it without his consent except his 
government, and it only to the extent of its legitimate 
wants; to take more is robbery, and you propose by this 
bill to enforce robbery by murder. Yes: to this result you 
must come, by this miserable sophistry, this vague ab- 
straction of enforcing the law, without a regard to the 
fact whether the law be just or unjust, constitutional or 
unconstitutional. 
" In the same spirit, we are told that the Union must be 



nature of the interruption affected the gravity of almost every person present, 
even of grave Senators; of all, perhaps, but the orator, upon whose counte- 
nance there passed not the shade of an emotion. The rigid muscles showed no 
relaxation, but every feature remained unmoved and inflexible. He proceeded 
as if naught had occurred of singularity, and his deep and earnest tones soon 
recalled the minds of the audience to the subject they had for a moment for- 
gotten. — March. 

52 



410 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

preserved, without regard to the means. And how is it 
proposed to preserve the Union? By force! Does any 
man in his senses believe that this beautiful structure — 
this harmonious aggregate of states, produced by the joint 
consent of all — can be preserved by force? Its very in- 
troduction will be the certain destruction of this Federal 
Union. No, no. You can not keep the states united in 
their constitutional and federal bonds by force. Force 
may, indeed, hold the parts together, but such union would 
be the bond between master and slave: a union of exaction 
on one side, and of unqualified obedience on the other. 
That obedience which, we are told by the senator from 
Pennsylvania [Mr. Wilkins] , is the Union ! Yes, exaction 
on the side of the master; for this very bill is intended to 
collect what can be no longer called taxes — the voluntary 
contribution of a free people — but tribute — tribute to 
be collected under the mouths of the cannon! Your cus- 
tom-house is already transferred to a garrison, and that 
garrison with its batteries turned, not against the enemy 
of our country, but on subjects (I will not say citizens), on 
whom you propose to levy contributions. Has reason fled 
from our borders? Have we ceased to reflect? It is mad- 
ness to suppose that the Union can be preserved by force 
I tell you plainly, that the bill, should it pass, can not be 
enforced. It will prove only a blot upon your statute- 
book, a reproach to the year, and a disgrace to the Ameri- 
can Senate. I repeat that it will not be executed: it will 
rouse the dormant spirit of the people, and open their 
eyes to the approach of despotism. The country has sunk 
into avarice and political corruption, from which nothing 
can arouse it but some measure, on the part of the govern- 
ment, of folly and madness, such as that now under con- 
sideration." 

" No little portion of the speech was directed to the 
consideration of the philosophy of government, and the 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 411 

history of free institutions, — subjects which the orator 
had studied to complete mastery, and was amply capable 
to illustrate. He defended himself against the charge of 
1 metaphysical reasoning.' As he understood the proper 
use of the term, it meant the power of analysis and com- 
bination. ' It is the power,' he said, ' which raises man 
above the brute; which distinguishes his faculties from 
mere sagacity, which he holds in common with inferior 
animals. It is this power which has raised the astronomer 
from being a mere gazer at the stars to the high, intellect- 
ual eminence 01 a Newton or La Place, and astronomy 
itself, from a mere observation of insulated facts, into that 
noble science which displays to our admiration the system 
of the Universe. And shall this high power of the mind, 
which has effected such wonders when directed to the laws 
which control the material world, be forever prohibited, 
under a senseless cry of metaphysics, from being applied 
to the mighty purpose of political science and legislation? 
I hold them to be subject to laws as fixed as matter itself, 
and to be as fit a subject for the application of the highest 
intellectual power. Denunciation may indeed fall upon 
the philosophical inquirer into these first principles as it 
did upon Galileo and Bacon, when they first unfolded the 
great discoveries which have immortalized their names; 
but the time will come when truth will prevail in spite of 
prejudice and denunciation, and when politics and legisla- 
tion will be considered as much a science as astronomy 
and chemistry.' " 

After Mr. Calhoun had finished his great speech, Mr. 
Webster immediately rose in reply.* 

It is well known that the difficulties between the general 
government and South Carolina were amicably settled by 
the adoption of the Compromise Act prepared and intro- 
duced by Henry Clay. 

* See the sketch of Webster's life for extracts from his speech. 



412 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

The position which Mr. Calhoun assumed in relation tc 
the Bank agitation during the presidency of Mr. Van 
Buren, exposed him to the censure of the Whig party. In 
1838, he was assailed on the floor of the Senate, by Mr. 
Clay, who accused him with having changed his opinion, 
abandoned his principles, and gone over to the enemy — to 
the administration party. He also made an attack on his 
intellectual faculties, charging him with being metaphysi- 
cal, possessing too much genius and too little common 
sense. Such charges were repelled by Mr. Calhoun in a 
reply, from which the following is an extract. It is one of 
the most eloquent and indignant retorts ever recorded in 
the history of parliamentary oratory: 

" But the senator [Mr. Clay], did not confine his attack 
to my conduct and motives in reference to the present 
question. In his eagerness to weaken the cause I support, 
by destroying confidence in me, he made an indiscriminate 
attack on my intellectual faculties, which he characterized 
as metaphysical, eccentric 3 too much of genius, and too 
little of common sense, and, of course, wanting a sound 
and practical judgment. 

" Mr. President, according to my opinion, there is nothing 
of which those who are endowed w T ith superior mental 
faculties ought to be more cautious, than to reproach those 
with their deficiency to whom Providence has been less 
liberal. The faculties of our mind are the immediate gift 
of our Creator, for which we are no farther responsible 
than for their proper cultivation, according to our oppor- 
tunities, and their proper application to control and regu- 
late our actions. Thus thinking, I trust I shall be the last 
to assume superiority on my part, or reproach any one 
with inferiority on his; but those who do not regard the 
rule w T hen applied to others, can not expect it to be ob- 
served when applied to themselves The critic must expect 



OHN C. CALHOUN. 413 

to be criticized, and lie who points out the faults of oilers, to 
have his own pointed out. 

" I can not retort on the senator the charge of being 
metaphysical. I can not acuse him of possessing the pow- 
ers of analysis and generalization, those higher faculties of 
the mind (called metaphysical by those who do not possess 
them) which decompose and resolve into their elements 
the complex masses of ideas tjiat exist in the world of 
mind, as chemistry does the bodies that surround us in the 
material world; and without which those deep and hidden 
causes which are in constant action, and producing such 
mighty changes in the condition of society, would operate 
unseen and undetected. The absence of these higher 
qualities of mind is conspicuous throughout the whole 
course of the senator's public life. To this it may be 
traced that he prefers the specious to the solid, and the 
plausible to the true. To the same cause, combined with 
an ardent temperament, it is owing that we ever find him 
mounted on some popular and favorite measure, which he 
whips along, cheered by the shouts of the multitude, and 
never dismounts till he has rode it down. Thus, at one 
time we find him mounted on the protective system, which 
he rode down; at another, on internal improvement; and 
now he is mounted on a bank, which will surely share the 
same fate, unless those who are immediately interested 
shall stop him in his headlong career. It is the fault of 
his mind to seize on a few prominent and striking advan- 
tages, and to pursue them eagerly, without looking to con- 
sequences. Thus, in the case of the protective system, he 
was struck with the advantages of manufactures; and, 
believing that high duties was the proper mode of pro- 
tecting them, he pushed forward the system, without 
seeing that he was enriching one portion of the country 
at the expense of the other; corrupting the one and alien- 
ating the other; and, finally, dividing the community into 



414 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

two great hostile interests, which terminated in the over- 
throw of the system itself. So, now, he looks only to a 
uniform currency, and a bank as a means of securing it, 
without once reflecting how far the banking system has 
progressed, and the difficulties that impede its farther pro- 
gress; that banking and politics are running together, to 
their mutual destruction; and that the only possible mode 
of saving his favorite system is to separate it from the 
government. 

" To the defects of understanding which the senator 
attributes to me, I make no reply. It is for others, and 
not me, to determine the portion of understanding which 
it has pleased the Author of my being to bestow on me. 
It is, however, fortunate for me, that the standard by 
which I shall be judged is not the false, prejudiced, and, 
as I have shown, unfounded opinion which the senator has 
expressed, but my acts. They furnish materials, neither 
few nor scant to form a just estimate of my mental facul- 
ties. I have now been more than twenty-six years con- 
i.nuously in the service of this government, in various 
stations, and have taken part in almost all the great ques- 
tions which have agitated this country during this long 
and important period. Throughout the whole I have 
never followed events, but have taken my stand in advance, 
openly and freely, avowing my opinions on all questions, 
and leaving it to time and experience to condemn or ap- 
prove my course. Thus acting, I have often, and on great 
questions, separated from those with whom I usually acted; 
and if 1 am really so defective in sound and practical 
judgment as the senator represents, the proof, if to be 
found any where, must be found in such instances, or 
where I have acted on my sole responsibility. Now I ask, 
In which of the many instances of the kind is such proof 
to be found? It is not my intention to call to the recol- 
lection of th> Senate all such: but that you, senators, may 



JOHN" C. CALHOUN. 415 

judge for yourselves, it is due in justice to myself, that I 
should suggest a few of the most prominent, which at the 
time were regarded as the senator now considers the pre- 
sent ; and then, as now, because, where duty is involved, 1 
would not submit to party trammels." 

After Mr. Calhoun had ably vindicated his political and 
intellectual character, he concluded thus: " I have now, 
senators, repelled the attacks on me. I have settled and 
canceled the debt between me and my accuser. I have 
not sought this controversy, nor have I shunned it w r hen 
forced on me. I have acted on the defensive, and if it is 
to continue, which rests with the senator, I shall through- 
out continue so to act. I know too well the advantage of 
my position to surrender it. The senator commenced, the 
controversy, and it is but right that he should be responsi- 
ble for the direction it shall hereafter take. Be his deter- 
mination what it may, I stand prepared to meet him." 

A writer in the April number of the Democratic Review 
of 1838, alluding to this memorable debate, said: "Mr. 
Calhoun has evidently taken Demosthenes for his model 
as a speaker — or rather, I suppose, he has studied, while 
young, his orations with great admiration, until they pro- 
duced a decided impression upon his mind. His recent 
speech in defense of himself against the attacks of Mr. 
Clay, is precisely on the plan of the famous oration Be 
Corona, delivered by the great Athenian, in vindication 
of himself from the elaborate and artful attacks of JEs- 
chines. While the one says: ' Athenians! to you I appeal, 
my judges and my witnesses!' — the other says: ' In proof 
of this, I appeal to you, senators, my witnesses and my 
judges on this occasion!' iEschines accused Demosthenes 
of having received a bribe from Philip and the latter re- 
torted by saying that the other had accused him of doing 
what he himself had notoriously done. Mr. Clay says, that 
Mr Calhoun had gone over, and he left to time to disclose 



416 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

his motive. Mr. Calhoun retorts: ' Leave it to time to 
disclose my motive for going over! I, who have changed 
no opinion, abandoned no principles, and deserted no 
party; I who have stood still and maintained my ground 
against every difficulty, to be told that it is left to time to 
disclose my motive.' The imputation sinks to the earth, 
with the groundless charge on which it rests. I stamp it, 
with scorn, in the dust. 1 pick up the dart, which Jell h arm- 
less at my feet. I hurl it bach* What the senator charges 
on me unjustly, he has actually done.. He went over on a 
memorable occasion,! and did not leave it to time to dis- 
close his motive.' " 

In March, 1843, Mr. Calhoun resigned his seat in the 
Senate and retired to private life. On the death of Mr. 
Upshur, Secretary of State, in 1844, he was invited by 
President Tyler to succeed him at the head of the State 
Department. He accepted the office, and discharged its 
duties with fidelity, After the close of Mr. Tyler's Admin- 
istration, Mr. Calhoun was returned to the Senate of the 
United States, where he continued till his death. His lasl 
great oratorical efforts were in defense of the institution 
of Slavery. His views on this, and other political subjects, 

* A friend who was present during the delivery of Mr Calhoun's speech in 
reply to Mr. Clay, says that, although he has heard many public speakers, he 
never witnessed such intense earnestness, such a display of impassioned elo 
quence, as characterized this great effort. The keen, fulgent eyes of the. 
speaker shot lightnings at every glance, his hair stood on end, large drops of 
sweat rested on his brow, and every feature and muscle were alive with ani- 
mation. And while this burning flood of indignation was rolling in a deluge 
from his lips, the audience were so completely enchained that perfect silence 
was preserved, and a pin might have been heard to drop in any part of the 
chamber-, and when he declared, with a gesture su'ted to his words, that he 
hurled back the dart which had been thrown against him, the eyes of all were 
involuntarily turned to witness the effect of the blow.— Jenkins. 

t In allusion to the course of Mr. Clay, in the winter of 1825, with refer- 
ence to the election of Mr. Adams, and his acceptance of the office of Secretary 
of State. 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 417 

are too well known to be mentioned here. It is not our 
design to contemplate him as a slaveholder, or a politician, 
but as an Orator and Statesman. 

The last speech that Mr Calhoun prepared, was on the 
slavery question. So infirm was his health that he was 
unable to deliver it himself. It was read in the Senate, by 
a political friend, on the 4th of March, 1850. The last 
time that Mr. Calhoun's voice was heard in debate in the 
Senate, was on the 13th of the same month. On the morn- 
ing of the 31st of March, 1850, he expired, in the sixty- 
ninth year of his age. His last words were, " I am per- 
fectly comfortable." On the 1st of April, his death was 
announced in the Senate by his colleague, Mr. Butler. On 
that occasion Daniel Webster delivered the following elo- 
quent tribute to the memory of the departed Statesman, 
which contains a beautiful description of his character. 

" I hope the Senate will indulge me in adding a very few 
words to what has been said. My apology for this pre- 
sumption is the very long acquaintance which has subsisted 
between Mr. Calhoun and myself. We were of the same 
age. I made my first entrance into the House of Repre- 
sentatives in May, 1813. I there found Mr. Calhoun. He 
had already been a member of that body for two or three 
years. I found him then an active and efficient member 
of the House, taking a decided part, and exercising a 
decided influence, in all its deliberations. 

" From that day to the day of his death, amidst all the 
strifes of party and politics, there has subsisted between 
us, always, and without interruption, a great degree of 
personal kindness. 

C; Differing widely on many great questions respecting our 
irstitutions and the government of the country, those dif- 
ferences never interrupted our personal and social inter- 
course. I have been present at most of the distinguished 

instances of the exhibition of his talents in debate. I have 
53 



4 1 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN 

always heard him with pleasure, often with much instrue* 
tion, not unfrequently with the highest degree of admira- 
tion. 

" Mr. Calhoun was calculated to be a leader in whatso- 
ever association of political friends he was thrown. He 
was a man of undoubted genius and of commanding talent. 
All the country and all the world admit that. His mind 
was both perceptive and vigorous. It was clear, quick, and 
strong. 

" Sir, the eloquence of Mr. Calhoun, or the manner in 
which he exhibited his sentiments in public bodies, was 
part of his intellectual character. It grew out of ihe qual- 
ities of his mind. It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, 
concise; somstimes impassioned, still always severe. Re- 
jecting ornament, not often seeking far for illustration, his 
power consisted in the plainness of his propositions, in the 
closeness of his logic, and in the earnestness and energy of 
his manner. These are the qualities, as I think, which 
have enabled him through such a long course of years to 
speak often, and yet always command attention. His 
demeanor as a Senator is known to us all, is appreciated, 
venerated, by us all. No man was more respectful to 
others; no man carried himself with greater decorum, no 
man with superior dignity. I think there is not one of us, 
when he last addressed us from his seat in the Senate, his 
form still erect, with a voice by no means indicating such 
a degree of physical weakness as did in fact possess him, 
with clear tones, and an impressive, and, I may say, an 
imposing manner, who did not feel that he might imagine 
that we saw before us a Senator of Rome, while Rome sur- 
vived. 

" Sir, I have not, in public nor in private life, known a 
more assiduous person in the discharge of his appropriate 
duties. I have known no man who wasted less of life in 
what is called recreation, or employed less of it in any 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 419 

pm suits not connected with the immediate discharge of his 
duty. He seemed to have no recreation but the pleasure 
of conversation with his friends. Out of the chambers of 
Congress, he was either devoting himself to the acquisition 
of knowledge pertaining to the immediate subject of the 
duty before him, or else he was indulging in those social 
interviews in which he so much delighted. 

" My honorable friend from Kentucky* has spoken in 
just terms of his colloquial talents. They certainly were 
singular and eminent. There was a charm in his conversa- 
tion not often equaled. He delighted especially in con- 
versation and intercourse with young men. I suppose that 
there has been no man among us, who had more winning 
manners, in such an intercourse and such conversation, 
with men comparatively young, than Mr. Calhoun. I 
believe one great power of his character, in general, was 
his conversational talent. I believe it is that, as well as a 
consciousness of his high integrity, and the greatest rever- 
ence for his talents and ability, that has made him so 
endeared an object to the people of the State to which he 
belonged. 

" Mr. President, he had the basis, the indispensable basis 
of all high character; and that was unspotted integrity and 
unimpeached honor. If he had aspirations, they were 
high, and honorable, and noble. There was nothing grov- 
eling, or low, or meanly selfish, that came near the head 
or the heart of Mr. Calhoun. Firm in his purpose, perfectly 
patriotic and honest, as I am sure he was, in the principles 
that he espoused, and in the measures that he defended, 
aside from the large regard for the species of distinction 
that conducted him to eminent stations for the benefit of 
the republic, I do not believe he had a selfish motive or 
selfish feeling. However he may have differed from others 

* Mr. Clay. 



420 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of us in his political opinions or his political principles, 
those principles and those opinions will now descend to 
posterity under the sanction of a great name. He has 
lived long enough, he has done enough, and he has done it 
so well, so successfully and so honorably, as to connect him- 
self for all time with the records of his country. He is now 
a historical character. Those of us who have known him 
here, will find that he has left upon our minds and our 
hearts a strong and lasting impression of his person, his 
character, and his public performances, which, while we 
live, will never be obliterated. We shall hereafter, I am 
sure, indulge in it as a grateful recollection, that we have 
lived in his age, that we have been his contemporaries, that 
we have seen him, and heard him and known him. We 
shall delight to speak of him to those who are rising up to 
fill our places. And, when the time shall come that we 
ourselves must go, one after another, to our graves, we 
shall carry with us a deep sense of his genius and charac- 
ter, his honor and integrity, his amiable deportment in 
private life, and the purity of his exalted patriotism." 

On the 2d of April, the funeral services were performed. 
The remains of the orator and statesman were conveyed 
to Charleston, S. C, and temporarily deposited in a vault 
in the cemetery of St. Philip's church. 

The personal appearance of Mr. Calhoun was such as to 
make a lasting impression upon the mind of the beholder. 
His eye, like that of Chatham and Erskine, was his most 
. remarkable feature. In debate, its glare was calculated to 
confound his antagonist, and impress his audience with 
awe. No one, who ever saw Mr. Calhoun, will forget his 
piercing looks or general appearance. His form was as ven- 
erable, and his countenance as animated and intelligent as 
those of the great English orators whom we have just named 
We have the following sketch of Mr. Calhoun's personal 
appearance, drawn by a distinguished foreigner, in 1846: 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 421 

" His appearance is unlike that of other men. His per- 
son is tall and thin, and I have always seen him dressed in 
black. His action is quick, and both in society and in the 
Senate very expressive. He speaks with the utmost ra- 
pidity, as if no words could convey his speed of thought; 
his face is all intellect, with eyes so dazzling, black, and 
piercing that few can stand their gaze. Sixty-four years 
have left their dark centre yet undimmed, and the sur- 
rounding blue liquid and pure as the eye of childhood. 
Sometimes their intense look is reading each thought of 
your bosom; sometimes they are beaming with the inspira- 
tions of his own. I have often beheld them suffused with 
emotion, when the feelings of that ingenuous breast have 
been excited by honest praise, or moved by sympathy. 
Mr. Calhoun's general expression is that of unceasing men- 
tal activity and great decision. His forehead is broad and 
full; a deep furrow extends quite across, and above the 
eyebrows there is considerable fullness. His hair is thick, 
and long, and straight, and graj', and is thrown back from 
his face; the eyebrows are very near the eye, and the cheeks 
are denuded of flesh. The mouth is thin, and somewhat 
inclined downwards at the corners; it is the proud and 
melancholy lip of Dante. His complexion is bronzed by 
the sun of the South." 

Among parliamentary orators, Mr. Calhoun stands in the 
foremost rank. In some respects it has been claimed that 
he surpasses all other statesmen of modern times. His 
forte lay in lucid analysis, intense earnestness, and ener- 
getic delivery. His eloquence flowed forth like a vehment 
torrent, moving and swaying the heart of his hearers. In 
metaphysical reasoning and oratorical energy he excelled- 
" Mr. Calhoun," says a critic, in reviewing his character, 
" is the acknowledged chief of metaphysical orators. His 
mind is uncommonly acute, with a rare faculty of seeing 
or making distinctions. His reasoning is equally subtle 



422 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and plausible. He loves to revel and soar in the airy 
regions of abstraction. He is the great Des Cartes of the 
political academy. His theory is always curious — often 
beautiful — sometimes sublime; but it is a theory of c vor- 
tices.' " 

The character of South Carolina's greatest statesmen, is 
thus beautifully sketched by his distinguished biographer, 
Mr. John S. Jenkins. 

" No one ever saw Mr. Calhoun for the first time without 
being forcibly impressed with the conviction of his mental 
superiority. There was that in his air and in his appear- 
ance which carried with it the assurance that he was no 
common man. He had not Hyperion's curls, nor the front 
of Jove. Miss Martineau termed him, in her Travels in 
America, the cast-iron man, ' who looked as if he had 
never been born.' In person he was tall and slender, and 
his frame appeared gradually to become more and more 
attenuated till he died. His features were harsh and angu- 
lar in their outlines, presenting a combination of the 
Greek and the Roman. A serene and almost stony calm 
was habitual to them when in repose, but when enlivened 
in conversation or debate, their play was remarkable — 
the lights were brought out into bolder relief, and the 
shadows thrown into deeper shade. 

" His countenance, when at rest, indicated abstraction 
or a preoccupied air, and a stranger on approaching him 
could scarcely avoid an emotion of fear; yet he could not 
utter a word before the lire of genius blazed from his eye 
and illuminated his expressive features. His individuality 
was stamped upon his acute and intelligent face, and the 
lines of character and thought were clearly and strongly 
defined. His forehead was broad, tolerably high, and 
compact, denoting the mass of brain behind it. Until he 
had passed the grand climacteric, he w r ore his hair short 
and brushed it back, so that it stood erect on the top of 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 423 

his head, like bristles on the angry boar, 01 6 quills upon 
the fretful porcupine,' but toward the close of his life he 
suffered it to grow long, and to fall in heavy masses over 
his temples. But his eyes were his most striking features: 
they were dark blue, large and brilliant; in repose glowing 
with a steady light, in action fairly emitting flashes of 
fire. 

" His character was marked and decided, not prematurely 
exhibiting its peculiarities, yet formed and perfected at an 
early age. He was firm and prompt, manly and independ- 
ent. His sentiments were noble and elevated, and every 
thing mean or groveling was foreign to his nature. He 
was easy in his manners, and affable and dignified. His 
attachments were warm and enduring; he did not manifest 
his affection with enthusiastic fervor, but with deep ear- 
nestness and sincerity. He was kind, generous and chari- 
table; honest and frank; faithful to his friends, but some- 
what inclined to be unforgiving toward his enemies. He 
was attached to his principles and prejudices with equal 
tenacity; and when he had adopted an opinion, so strong 
was his reliance upon the correctness of his own judgment, 
that he often doubted the wisdom and sincerity of those 
who disagreed with him. He never shrank from the per- 
formance of any duty, however painful it might be, — that 
it was a duty, was sufficient for him. He possessed pride 
of character in no ordinary degree, and withal, not a little 
vanity, which is said always to accompany true genius. 
His devotion to the South was not sectional, so much as it 
was the natural consequence of his views with reference 
to the theory of the government; and his patriotism, like 
his fame, was coextensive with the Union. 

" In private life he was fitted to be loved and respected. 
Like Jefferson, Madison, Marshall, and the younger Adams, 
he Avas simple in his habits. When at home, he usually 
rose at day-break, and, if the weather admitted, took a 



424 OR ATOHS A X D STAT ES MEN. 

walk over his farm. He breakfasted at half-past seven, 
and then retired to his office, which stood near his dwell- 
ing house, where he wrote till dinner time, or three 
o'clock. After dinner time he read or conversed with his 
family till sunset, when he took another walk. His tea 
hour was eight o'clock; he then joined his family again, 
and passed the time in conversation or reading till ten 
o'clock, when he retired to rest As a citizen, he was 
without blemish; he wronged no one; and there were no 
ugly spots on his character to dim the brilliancy of his 
public career. His social qualities were endearing, and 
his conversational powers fascinating in the extreme. He 
loved to talk with the young; he was especially animated 
and instructive when engaged in conversation with them, 
and scarcely ever failed to inspire a sincere attachment in 
the breasts of those who listened to him. He frequently 
corresponded, too, with young men, and almost the last 
letter he wrote, was addressed to a protege attending a law 
school in New York, and was replete with kind advice and 
with expressions of friendly interest. 

" He conversed, perhaps, with too great freedom. He 
prided himself on being unreserved in the expression of 
his opinions, and yet this was a fault in his character; for 
in the transaction of business, and in deciding and acting 
upon important political questions, he was ordinarily 
cautious and prudent. To this very frankness, therefore, 
may be attributed, not the misrepresentations, but the 
occasion of the misrepresentations, of which he was the 
victim. He often complained that he was not understood, 
but he sometimes forgot that those who would not compre- 
hend him, might have been already prejudiced by some 
remark of his, made at the wrong time, or in the wrong 
presence. 

" His disposition was reflective, and he spent hours at a 
time in earnest thought. But he was exceedingly fond of 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 425 

reading history and books of travel. Works on govern- 
ment, on the rise and fall of empires, on the improvement 
and decline of the races of mankind and the struggles and 
contests of one with another, always attracted his atten- 
tion. Indeed, his whole life was one of study and thought.* 

But let us advert a little more fully to a few of the pro- 
minent attributes of Mr. Calhoun's eloquence. Let us see 
by what means he acquired such a sway over the human 
passions. 

1. He excelled in one of the highest characteristics of 
true eloquence — earnestness of manner. In public ad- 
dress, he made every one feel that his sentiments came 
directly from his heart, and were the result of an honest 
conviction of their truth. 

This lofty earnestness enabled him to control the feel- 
ings of his audience with perfect ease, and to rivet their 
attention closely to the subject under discussion. His 
earnest, noble and commanding appearance, when animated 
in debate, made a lasting impression upon the mind. 
When he became deeply engaged with his subject, every 
word, every look, every gesture was so eloquent that one 
could not help being moved. Earnestness, then, was one 
of the most striking marks of his oratory — one which in- 
vested his eloquence with such unrivaled power and 
superiority. 

"Asa public speaker and debater, Mr. Calhoun was 
energetic and impressive to the highest degree. Without 
having much of the action of an orator, yet his compressed 
lip — his erect and stern attitudes — his iron countenance, 
and flashing eye — all made him, at times, eloquent in the 

* We would refer our readers to the excellent ct Life of John C. Calhoun," 
by John S. Jenkins, Esq. — a work with which every admirer of the statesman 
will be pleased. It is the best biography of Mr. Calhoun that has been pub- 
lished. 

54 



426 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

full sense of the word. No man could hear him without 
feeling. His power was in clear analysis, suppressed 
passion, and lofty earnestness." 

2. Another distinguishing quality of Mr. Calhoun's 
eloquence was the impetuosity and boldness with which 
his language was uttered. His words came from his lips 
like a rapid, swelling, sparkling stream. They often 
rushed with such rapidity that he " seemed obliged to clip 
them off to make room." He was never at a loss for ideas 
or words to express them. He had great copiousness of 
language: and he was bold in the utterance of his glowing 
thoughts. The fearless tone with which he expressed his 
lofty sentiments inspired one with awe. Every hearer, 
swayed by a commanding eloquence, felt that he was in 
the presence of a mighty mind. The speaker's words 
came forth with a power that captivated and melted the 
heart. When he became fully aroused on some great topio 
his voice was elevated to a high pitch, and its loud, shrill 
tones pierced through the whole frame. 

3. Mr. Calhoun was actuated by a genial enthusiasm 
This was an element of great power in his oratory. On all 
important occasions, he put his whole soul into his subject, 
and poured forth a stream of eloquence which it was im- 
possible to withstand. His enthusiasm bore him upward 
and onward. He often soared into the regions of tho 
beautiful and sublime. Stimulated by the loftiest impulse, 
he could not but touch the sensibilities and sway the judg- 
ment of his hearers. " His mighty mind, when aroused in 
debate, was quick with the thunder thought and lightning 
will, rendering it as impossible for ordinary antagonists to 
avert or resist his influence, as for an oak to clasp in its 
arms the tempest that beats upon it." 

4. As a metaphysical reasoner, Mr. Calhoun, perhaps, 
towers above eyery other senatorial orator of ancient and 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 427 

modern times. Where do we read of a statesman that 
could analyze with such minute discrimination a complex 
and intricate subject? 

On this point, read the following statement of one who 
knew him well. It was made while the orator was living. 

'• In one faculty of the mind, Mr. Calhoun surpasses any 
public man of the age, and that is in analysis. His power 
to examine a complex idea, and exhibit to you the simple 
ideas of which it is composed, is wonderful. Hence it is 
that he generalizes with such great rapidity, that oidinary 
minds suppose, at first, he is theoretical; whereas, he has 
only reached a point at -a single bound, to which it 
would require long hours of sober reflection for them to 
attain. It is a mistake to suppose that he jumps at his 
conclusions without due care and consideration. No man 
examines with more care, or with more intense labor, every 
question upon which his mind is called to act. The differ- 
ence between him and others is, that he thinks constantly, 
with little or no relaxation. Hence the restless activity 
and energy of his mind always place him far in advance 
of those around him. He has reached the summit, while 
they have just commenced to ascend, and can not readily 
discover the path which has lead him to his lofty and ex- 
tensive view." 

5. The style of Mr. Calhoun is worthy of great commend- 
ation. It is distinguished for its simplicity, purity, clear- 
ness, point and vigor. There is in it that which constantly 
reminds one of Demosthenes. He seems to have chosen 
the Athenian as his model — to have studied his orations 
with great care. His words are well chosen; his sentences 
are admirably constructed; like those of Demosthenes, 
they are remarkable for their brevity. His style affords 
clear evidence of early, and severe intellectual training in 
the literature of ancient Greece. 



42S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

The works of Mr. Calhoun are now before the pablic in 
a permanent form.* There they will remain, an enduring 
monument of their author's genius and fame. To these 
volumes we must refer the reader, that he may justly ap- 
preciate the character of Mr. Calhoun's style. He will also 
find them valuable for the large fund of information on 
political science, and the history of the country, which 
they contain. 

* They were lately collected, and are published in four handsome octavo 
volumes by D. Appleton & Co., N. Y. 




Drawn from life ,aiul ."Eiig'rAved ly J.imes B. Lonjjncrc. 



iSAKfHUjL WJHBSITIffilEo 



CHAPTER XVII. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Daniel Webster was born in the town of Salisbury, New 
Hampshire, on the 18th of January, 1782, the last year of 
the revolutionary war. His father, Ebenezer Webster, was 
a captain in that war; he was at the battle of White Plains, 
and in the thickest of the fight at Bennington. After the 
war was ended, Captain Webster was elected a Representa- 
tive from Salisbury to the Legislature of New Hampshire, 
he was subsequently chosen State Senator, and finally 
became one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas. 
He died in 1806, at the age of sixty-seven. Ebenezer Web- 
ster was twice married. His second wife, Abigail Eastman, 
the mother of Daniel and Ezekiel Webster, was a woman of 
superior mental endowments. 

About the time of his second marriage, Captain Webster 
built a frame-house near the old log cabin.* He planted 

* In a speech delivered at Saratoga, in IS40, Mr. Webster thus alludes to his 
birth-place: " It did not happen to me to be born in a log cabin; but my elder 
brothers and sisters were born in a log cabin, raised amid the snow-drifts of 
New Hampshire, at a period so early that, when the smoke first rose from its 
rude chimney, and curled over the frozen hills, there was no similar evidence 
of a white man's habitation between it and the settlements on the rivers of Can- 
ada. Its remains still exist. I make to it an annual visit. I carry my chil- 
dren to it to teach tnem the hardships endured by the generations which have 
gone before them. I love to dwell on the tender recollections, the kindred ties, 
the early affections, and the touching narratives and incidents, which mingle 
with aJl I know of this primitive family abode. I weep to think that none rf 



430 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

an elm sapling and dug a well close to it. In this house 
the great orator and statesman of New England was i orn. 
" The house has long since disappeared, from roof to 
foundation-stone. Nothing indicates its sometime exist- 
ence but a cellar mostly filled up by stone and earth. But 
the well still remains, with water as pure, as cool, as limpid, 
as when first turned to the light; and will remain, in all 
probability, for ages, to refresh hereafter the votaries of 
genius, who make their pilgrimage hither to visit the cradle 
of one of her greatest sons. The elm that shaded the boy 
still flourishes in vigorous leaf, and may have an exist- 
ence beyond its perishable nature. Like 

" The witch-elm that guards St. Fillan's Spring," 

it may live in story, long after leaf, and branch, and root 
have disappeared forever." 

Daniel Webster was brought up amidst the rude, majestic 
scenery of the Old Granite State. Here his youthful mind 
was impressed with scenes of grandeur and sublimity, the 
remembrance of which was never erased from his heart; 
and which doubtless had great influence over the develop- 
ment of his moral and intellectual character. " Nearly all 
the heroism, moral excellence, and ennobling literature of 
the world, has been produced by those who, in infancy 
and in youth were fostered by the inspiration of exalted 
regions, where the turf is covered with a rude beauty, rocks 
and wilderness are piled in bold and inimitable shapes of 
savage grandeur, tinged with the hues of untold centuries, 

those who inhabited it are now among the living; and if ever I am ashamed of 
it, or if I ever fail in affectionate veneration for him who reared and defended it 
against savage violence and destruction, cherished all the domestic virtues 
beneath its roof, and, through the fire and blood of seven years 1 revolutionary 
war, shrunk from no danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country, and to 
raise his children to a condition better than his own, may my name and the 
name of my posterity be blotted forever from the memory of mankind!" 



DANIEL WEBSTER 431 

and over which awe-inspiring storms often sweep with 
thunders in ti^eir train. This is the influence which more 
than half created the Shakspeares, Miltons, Spencers, 
Words worths, Scotts, Coleridges, Shelleys, Irvings, Coo- 
pers, Bryants, and Websters of the world." 

In that excellent classic production, entitled Daniel 
Webster and his Contemporaries, by Mr. Charles W. 
March, there is an incident of Mr. Webster's earliest youth 
described so graphically, that we introduce it here : 

"In Mr. Webster's earliest youth an occurrence took 
place, which affected him deeply at the time, and has 
dwelt in his memory ever since. There was a sudden 
and extraordinary rise in the Merimac river, in a spring 
thaw. A deluge of rain for two whole days poured 
down upon the houses. A mass of mingled water and 
snow rushed madly from the hills, inundating the fields 
far and wide. The highways were broken up, and ren- 
dered undistinguishable. There was no way for neighbors 
to interchange visits of condolence or necessity, save by 
boats, which came up to the very door-steps of the houses. 

K Many things of value were swept away, even things of 
bulk. A large barn, full fifty feet by twenty, crowded with 
hay and grain, sheep, chickens and turkeys, sailed majes- 
tically down the river, before the eyes of the astonished 
inhabitants; who, no little frightened, got ready to fly to 
the mountains, or construct another Ark. The roar of 
waters, as they rushed over precipices, casting the foam 
and spray far above, the crashing of the forest-trees as the 
storm broke through them, the immense sea everywhere in 
range of the eye, the sublimity, even danger of the scene, 
made an indelible impression upon the mind of the youth- 
ful observer. 

" Occurrences and scenes like these excite the imagina- 
tive faculty, furnish material for proper thought, call into 



432 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 

existence new emotions, give decision to character, and a 
purpose to action." 

When he had attained his fourteenth year, Mr. Webster 
was taken by his beloved father to the Philip's Academy, 
Exeter, and placed under the excellent Dr. Benjamin 
Abbot for tuition. 

Long after, Mr. Webster, in describing a few simple 
incidents and struggles of his youth, refers to the com- 
mencement of his academical studies — the circumstances 
which resulted in his going to Philip's Academy — in a 
manner so touching that we are tempted to repeat his 
words here: 

"My Father, Ebenezer Webster ! — born at Kingston, in 
the lower part of the State, in 1739 — the handsomest man 
I ever saw, except my brother Ezekiel, who appeared to 
me, and so does he now seem to me, the very finest human 
form that ever I laid eyes on. I saw him in his coffin — a 
white forehead — a tinged cheek — a complexion as clear 
as heavenly light! But where am I straying? 

" The grave has closed upon him, as it has on all my 
brothers and sisters. We shall soon be all together. But 
this is melancholy — and I leave it. Dear, dear kindred 
blood, how I love you all! 

" This fair field is before me — I could see a lamb on 
any part of it. I have plowed it, and raked it, and hoed 
it, but I never mowed it Somehow, I could never learn 
to hang a scythe!* I had not wit enough. My brother 
Joe used to say that my father sent me to college in order 

* On one occasion, Daniel was put to mowing. He made bad work of it. 
His scythe was sometimes in the ground, and sometimes over the tops of all 
the grass. He complained to his father that his scythe was not hung right. 
Various attempts were made to hang it better, but with no success. His father 
told him, at length, he might hang it to suit himself, and he therefore hung it 
upon a tree, and said, " There, that's right. : ' His father laughed, and told 
hin c let it i% ^g there. — Private Life of Webster. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



433 



e equal to the rest of his children! On a hot day 

it must have been one of the last years of Wash- 

dministration — I was making hay, with my 

; where I now see a remaining elm tree, about the 

the afternoon. The Hon. Abiel Foster, M. C, 

in Canterbury, six miles off, called at the house, 

nto the field to see my father. He was a worthy 

ge-learned, and had been a minister, but was 

on of any considerable natural powers. My 

his friend and supporter. He talked a while in 

nd went on his way. When he was gone, my 

>d me to him, and we sat down beneath the elm, 

>ck. He said, ' My son, that is a worthy man, 

rber of Congress; he goes to Philadelphia, and 

lars a day, while I toil here. It is because he 

Lcation, which I never had. If I had had his 

tion, I should have been in Philadelphia in his 

.me ^ar it, as it was; but I missed it, and now 

rl ' My dear father,' said I, ' you shall 

r and I will >vork for you, and wear 

N u shall rest — and I remember to 

' at the recollection. * My child/ 

ance to me; I now live but for 

Lve your elder brother the 

T can do something for you. 

opportunities — learn — 

i will not need to go 

ndergone, and which 

\e.' The next May 

s Exeter Academy — ■ 

s excellent preceptor, Dr 



our L 

have crv 

said he, c i 

my children 

advantages ol 

Exert yourself - 

learn — and when 

through the hardship 

have made me an old i 

he took me to Exeter, i 

placed me under the tuitic 

Benjamin Abbott, still living. 

While at this academy, the youthful Webster mastered, 

in a few months, the principles and philosophy of the 

English grammar, and made respectable progress in his 
55 



434 



ORATORS AXD STATESMFN. 



other studies. His first Latin lessons were reci 
celebrated Joseph Stevens Buckminster, who w 
time a tutor in the academy. Here, the futu 
man was first called upon to speak in public on 
and it surely affords some encouragement to tin 
young student who is just commencing an 
career in the academy or college, to learn tlu 
Webster " evinced in his boyhood the strongest 
to public declamation " — that in his first effort lU 
embarrassed, and even burst into tears. 

Mr. Webster speaks of his earliest oratorical 
this institution in the following manner: " I 
made tolerable progress in most branches, which . 
to, while in this school; but there was one thi: 
not do. I could not make a declamation. I 
speak before the school. The kind and excelh 
minster sought especially to persuade me ^ pc 
exercise of declamation, like other boy ■-.. [ x 

do it. Many a piece did I commit to 
and rehearse in my own room, ov 
when the day came, when the 
declamations, when my name 
eyes turned to my seat, I cr 
Sometimes the instructors 
Mr. Buckminster alway 
ingly, that I would v 
sufficient resolutir 

After rernairr 
Mr. Webster 
Samuel W 
paratioE 
structio. 
ardor to the 
this time, and c 






er 



recite 

yet 

j hear 
I saw all 
elf from it. 
js they smiled, 
>a1ed, most will- 
could command 



Jis at Exeter Academy, 
was placed under the ReVi 
where he completed his pre- 
ile he remained under the in- 
[s 3 he applied himself with great 
the Latin classics. Cicero was, at 
afterwards, his favorite author. Like 
Fisher Ames, Mr. Webster was always an enthusiastic ad- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 435 

mirer of the immortal orator of Rome. Of all the Latin 
authors which he read, Cicero was the most familiarly 
known to him. " It may seem a little strange, indeed, that 
with all his early, eager and constant study of Rome's 
greatest orator, he should not have imitated unconsciously 
his manner of expression or thought. He much more re- 
sembles Demosthenes, in vigor and terseness of expression, 
and in copious vehemence; whose works, in the mean- 
while, he never so completely mastered." 

Mr. Webster also faithfully studied Virgil, reading one 
hundred verses at a lesson.* 

In the summer of 1797, Mr. Webster entered Dartmouth 
College. Besides pursuing the prescribed studies with 
diligence, he devoted a portion of his time to general 
reading, especially to the study of English literature, his- 
tory and eloquence. For the development of his meta- 
physical acumen, he perused, among other books, Watts 
on the Mind, and Locke on the Understanding; and in 
order to improve his style of speaking, he read Burke, 
Pitt, Ames, Hamilton, and other eminent orators. 

While in College, Mr. Webster pronounced an oration 

* The following incident, which occurred while Mr. Webster was under the 
instruction of Dr. Woods, is worthy of being narrated here. On one occa- 
sion the reverend tutor thought proper to give his scholar Daniel a scolding for 
spending too much time upon the hills and along the stream, hunting and fish- 
ing, but still complimented him for his smartness. The task assigned to him 
for his next recitation was one hundred lines of Virgil; and as he knew ihat 
his master had an engagement on the following morning, an idea occurred to 
him, and he spent the entire night poring over his books. The recitation hour 
finally arrived, and the scholar acquitted himself of his hundred lines and received 
the tutor's approbation. ;i But I have a few more lines that I can recite," said 
the boy Daniel. " Well, let us have them. 11 replied the doctor: and forthwith 
the boy reeled off another hundred lines. " Very remarkable," 1 said the doctor; 
" you are indeed a smart boy. 11 But I have another, 11 said the scholar, " and five 
hundred of them if you please. 11 The doctor was, of course, astonished, but, as 
he bethought him of his engagement, he begged to be excused, and added, li You 
me 7 have the whole day, Dan, for pigeon shooting. 11 — Lanman. 



433 OR A TORS AND STATESMEN. 

at Hanover, N. H., on the 4th of July, 1800. This speech — 
the first published oration of the American statesman — is 
not embodied in any edition of his published works, but 
may be found in the library of the Antiquarian Society, 
and also in that excellent work, The Hundred Boston 
Orators, by James S. Loring. It was published in 1800, 
with the following title-page; "An Oration, pronounced 
at Hanover, N. H., the 4th of July, 1800, being the twenty- 
fourth Anniversary of American Independence. By Dan- 
iel Webster, Member of the Junior Class, Dartmouth 
College. 

* Do thou, great Liberty, inspire our souls, 
And make our lives in thy possession happy, 
Or our deaths glorious in thy just defense.' — Addison." 

This oration is a remarkable production for a youth of 
eighteen; and is pervaded by the same spirit of Liberty, 
that characterizes and ennobles the orator's later efforts in 
the forum, in the halls of Congress, and at public gather- 
ings. We select a portion of the speech as affording the 
best specimen of his style at this early period of his life. 
Even then he was well acquainted with the history of his 
country, and the origin of our Constitution. He spoke of 
Bunker Hilh of Warren, of Washington, and of the sur- 
viving Revolutionary soldiers present, in the same patriotic 
strain with which he subsequently electrified tens of 
thousands of his countrymen on that sacred scene of 
American glory: 

" Recollection," said he, " can still pain us with the 
spiral flames of burning Charleston, the agonizing groans 
of aged parents, the shrieks of widows, orphans and in- 
fants! Indelibly impressed on our memories still live the 
dismal scenes of Bunker's awful mount, — the grand theater 
of New England bravery, where slaughter stalked grimly 
triumphant, — where relentless Britain saw her soldiers, 
the unhappy instruments of despotism, fallen in heaps 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 437 

beneath the nervous arm of injured freemen! There the 
great Warren fought; and there, alas! he fell. Valuinp 
life only as it enabled him to serve his country, he freely 
resigned himself a willing martyr in the cause of liberty, 
and now lies encircled in the arms of glory! 

4 Peace to the patriot's shades! Let no rude blast 
Disturb the willow that nods o'er his tomb! 
Let orphan tears bedew his saered urn, 
And Fame's loud trump proclaim the hero's name 
Far as the circuit o£ the spheres extend!' 

"That was the hour when heroism was proved — when 
the souls of men were tried. It was then, ye venerable 
patriots [speaking to the Revolutionary soldiers present] , 
it was then you stretched the indignant arm, and unitedly 
swore to be free! Despising such toys as subjugated em- 
pires, you then knew no middle fortune between liberty 
and death. Firmly relying in the patronage of Heaven, 
unwarped in the resolution you had taken, you then, un- 
daunted, met, engaged, defeated the gigantic power of 
Britain, and rose triumphant over the ruins of your ene- 
mies. Trenton, Princeton, Bennington and Saratoga, were 
the successive theaters of your victories, and the utmost 
bounds oi creation are the limits to your fame. The 
sacred fire of freedom, then enkindled in your breasts, 
shall be perpetuated through the long descent of future 
ages, and burn, with undiminished fervor, in the bosoms 
of millions yet unborn. 

" Wooster, Montgomery and Mercer, fell bravely in 
battle, and their ashes are now entombed on the fields 
that witnessed their valor. Let their exertions in our 
country's cause be remembered while liberty has an advo- 
cate or gratitude has place in the human heart! Greene, 
the immortal hero of the Carolinas, has since gone down 
to the grave loaded with honors, and high in the estima- 
tion of his countrymen. The courageous Putnam has long 



4CS ORATORS AND STAIjL&MEN. 

slept with his fathers.; and Sullivan and Cilley, New 
Hampshire's veteran sons, are no more numbered with the 
living. 

64 With hearts penetrated by unutterable grief, we are at 
length constrained to ask, Where is our Washington? 
Where the hero who led us to victory? — where the man 
who gave us freedom? Where is he who headed our 
feeble army when destruction threatened us, who came 
upon our enemies like the storms of winter, and scattered 
them like leaves before the Borean blast? Where.. my 
country, is thy political savior? Where, humanity, thy 
favorite son? The solemnity of this assembly, the lamen- 
tations of the American people, will answer, ' Alas! he is 
now no more — tlie mighty has fallen!' 

" Yes, Americans, your Washington is gone! He is now 
consigned to dust, and ' sleeps in dull, cold marble.' The 
man who never felt a wound but when it pierced his 
country, who never groaned but when fair Freedom bled, 
is now forever silent! Wrapped in the shroud of death, 
the dark dominions of the grave long since received him, 
and he rests in undisturbed repose. Vain were the at- 
tempt to express our loss, — vain the attempt to describe 
the feelings of our souls. Though months have rolled 
away since he left this terrestrial orb and sought the shining 
worlds on high, yet the sad event is still remembered with 
increased sorrow. The hoary-headed partaker of 1776 
still tells the mournful story to the listening infant, till 
the loss of his country touches his heart, and patriotism 
fires his breast. The aged matron still laments the loss of 
the man beneath whose banners her husband has fought, 
or her son has fallen. At the name of Washington the 
sympathetic tear still glistens in the eye of every youthful 
hero, nor does the tender sigh yet cease to heave in the 
fair bosom of Columbia's daughters. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 4 89 

Farewell, Washington! a long farewell! 
Thy country's tears embalm thy memory. 
Thy virtues challenge immortality! 
Impressed on grateful hearts, thy name shall live 
Till dissolution's deluge drown the world." 

In August, 1801, Mr. Webster completed his college 
course and received his degree.* He immediately entered 
the office of Thomas W. Thompson, as a student of the 
law. He remained with Mr. Thompson until the next Jan- 
uary, when he took charge of an academy at Fry burg, in 
Maine. Being too poor to purchase books, he there bor- 
rowed and read, for the first time, Blackstone's Commen- 
taries. It was then that he committed to memory the 
celebrated speech of Mr. Ames on the British Treaty. In 
after life he was heard to say, that few things moved him 
more than the perusal and reperusal of this speech. 

In September, 1802, he returned to Mr. Thompson's 
office, and resumed the study of law. He also occupied 
himself with the Latin classics, reading Sallust, Caesar, 
and Horace. He finished his professional studies with the 
Hon. Christopher Gore, of Boston, and was admitted to 
the bar in 1805. He began the practice of his profession 
at Boscawen, whence he removed to Portsmouth, New 
Hampshire, in 1507. Here he formed an acquaintance 

* Mr. Webster went through college in a manner that was highly creditabb 
to himself and gratifying to his friends. He graduated at Dartmouth in 1801, 
and though it was universally believed that he ought to have received, and 
would receive the valedictory, that honor was not conferred upon him, but 
upon one whose name has since passed into forgetfulness The ill-judging 
faculty of the college, however, bestowed upon him a diploma, but instead of 
pleasing, this commonplace compliment only disgusted him, and at the conclu- 
sion of the commencement exercises the disappointed youth asked a number of 
his classmates to accompany him to the green behind the college, where, in 
their presence, he deliberately tore up his honorary document, and threw it to 
the winds, exclaiming, u My industry may make me a great man, but this 
miserable parchment can not!" and immediately mounting his horse, departed 
for home. — Private Life of Daniel Webster, p. 29. 



410 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 

with Samuel Dexter, Joseph Story, Jeremiah Mason, and 
other distinguished jurists. 

At the age of thirty, Mr. Webster was chosen Repre- 
sentative to Congress, and took his seat at the extra ses- 
sion in May, 1813. 

On the 10th of June, of the same year, he delivered 
his maiden speech on the Berlin and Milan decrees. 
It took the House by surprise, and at once placed its 
author in the foremost rank of parliamentary speakers; 
with Clay, Calhoun, Lowndes, Pickering, Forsyth, and 
other distinguished leaders in Congress. The effect of 
this speech upon the House is accurately described by an 
eye-witness: "No member before ever riveted the atten- 
tion of the House so closely, in his first speech. Members 
left their seats where they could not see the speaker, face 
to face, and sat down, or stood on the floor, fronting him 
All listened attentively and silently, during the whole 
speech; and when it was over, many went up and warmly 
congratulated the orator; among whom, were some, not 
the most niggard of their compliments, who most dissented 
from the views he had expressed." 

Chief Justice Marshall, writing to a friend sometime 
after the delivery of this speech, said: "At the time 
when this speech was delivered, I did not know Mr. Web- 
ster, but I was so much struck w r ith it, that I did not hesi- 
tate then to state, that Mr. Webster was a very able man, 
?ud would become one of the very first statesmen in 
America, and perhaps the very first;" and the eminent Mr 
Lowndes even then remarked of Mr. Webster, that the 
North had not his equal, nor the South his superior. 

Mr. Webster was re-elected to Congress from New Hamp^ 
shire, in August, 1814, and in August, 1816, removed to 
Boston, where he devoted himself to the practice of law. 

In the celebrated Dartmouth College cause, which he 
argued at Washington, in 1818, Mr. Webster established 



DANIEL WEBSTER, 441 

iiis reputation as a lawyer throughout the country. The 
vast amount of legal knowledge, and the commanding, 
overpowering eloquence which he displayed on that occa- 
sion, placed him in the front rank of American jurists and 
orators. His argument in behalf of Dartmouth College 
was one of the grandest forensic efforts ever made. Its 
effects upon the audience were prodigious. The con- 
cluding remarks of his argument were uttered in tones of 
the deepest pathos which thrilled his hearers. When he 
ceased to speak, there was a death-like stillness through- 
out the court-room, which lasted for some moments. It is 
said that the dignified Chief Justice Marshall was over- 
come by this manly burst of eloquence — that his furrowed 
cheeks trembled with emotion, and that his eyes were 
suffused with tears. " Well, as if of yesterday," lately 
remarked Rufus Choate, ' k I remember how it was written 
home from Washington, that ' Mr. W T ebster closed a legal 
argument of great power by a peroration which charmed 
and melted his audience. 7 " 

The actual peroration of this celebrated argument is not 
contained in the published report of the speech, but is 
furnished with a graphie description of the scene, by 
Prof. Goodrich, of Yale College, who went to Washington, 
as he states, chieiiy for the sake of hearing Mr. Webster. 

The Professor's words are quoted by the Hon. Rufus 
Choate, in his magnificent eulogy on Daniel Webster, pro- 
nounced at Dartmouth College, July 27, 1853. To this 
eloquent discourse* we refer the reader who wishes to 
read Mr. Goodrich's description, as well as to see the in- 
tellectual and oratorical character of Mr Webster beauti- 

* The Hon. Edward Everett, in his remarks at the Plymouth Festival, a few 
days after the delivery of Mr. Choate's Eulogy on Daniel Webster, thus 
alludes to this masterly effort: " Our matchless Choate who has just electri- 
fied the land with a burst of eloouence not easily paralleled in the line of 
time 

5C 



142 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 

fully and glowingly described by another of Ni v England's 
greatest jurists and orators. 

On the 22& of December, 1820, just two hundred years 
from that eventful hour when our Pilgrim Fathers first 
set foot on Plymouth rock, Mr. Webster, invited by the 
Pilgrim Society, delivered a discourse at Plymouth, com- 
memorative of that memorable landing — of the first set- 
tlement of New England. It was an occasion of the 
highest interest; and an immense concourse of people 
assembled at Plymouth to unite in the celebration. Thou- 
sands were attracted to the consecrated spot merely by the 
fame of the orator. It was one of the proudest days that 
the noble descendants of the Pilgrims — those gallant, 
enterprising sons. of New England — ever beheld. 

The address which Mr. Webster made on that occasion 
was one of the greatest of his literary efforts, and pro- 
duced the most powerful effect on the minds of the thou- 
sands w r ho were so fortunate as to hear it. 

When the orator rose to address his vast audience, he 
commenced by saying: " Let us rejoice that we behold this 
day. Let us be thankful that w r e have lived to see the 
bright and happy breaking of the auspicious morn, which 
commences the third century of the history of New 
England. Auspicious, indeed, — bringing a happiness be- 
yond the common allotment of Providence to men, — full 
of present joy, and gilding with bright beams the pros- 
pect of futurity, is the dawn that awakens us to the com- 
memoration of the landing of the Pilgrims. 

" Living at an epoch which naturally marks the progress 
of the history of our native land, we have come hither to 
celebrate the great event with which that history com- 
menced. For ever honored be this, the place of our 
father's refuge ! For ever rememberec the day which saw 
them, weary and distressed, broken in every thing br.t 
spirit, poor in all but faith and courage, at last secure 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 443 

from the dangers of wintry seas, and impressing this shore 
with the first footsteps of civilized man!" 

This celebrated production contains many heart-stirring 
passages. We select one — hardly excelled in the history 
of eloquence — exhibiting in the highest degree the powers 
of the orator's imagination: 

" There is a local feeling connected with this occasion, 
too strong to be resisted; a sort of genius of the place, 
which inspires and awes us. We feel that we are on the spot 
where the first scene of our history was laid; where the 
hearths and altars of New England were first placed; 
where Christianity, and civilization, and letters made their 
first lodgment, in a vast extent of country, covered with 
a wilderness, and peopled by roving barbarians. We are 
here, at the season of the year at which the event took 
place. The imagination irresistibly and rapidly draws 
arounds us the principal features and the leading charac- 
ters in the original scene. We cast our eyes abroad on 
the ocean, and we see where the little bark, with the in- 
teresting group upon its deck, made its slow progress to 
the shore. We look around us, and behold the hills and 
promontories where the anxious eyes of our fathers first 
saw the places of habitation and of rest. We feel the 
cold which benumbed, and listen to the' winds which 
pierced them. Beneath us is the rock on which New 
England received the feet of the Pilgrims. W T e seem even 
to behold them, as they struggle with the elements, and, 
with toilsome efforts, gain the shore. We listen to the 
chiefs in council; we see the unexampled exhibition of 
female fortitude and resignation ; we hear the whisperings 
of youthful impatience, and we see, what a painter of our 
own has also represented by his pencil, chilled and shiver- 
ing childhood, houseless, but for a mother's arms, couch- 
less, but for a mother's breast, till our own blood almost 
freezes. The mild dignity of Carver and of Bradford; 



444 ORATORS AND STATEMEN. 

the decisive and soldierlike air and manner of S tandish, 
the devout Brewster; the enterprising Allerton; the 
general firmness and though tfulness of the whole band; 
their conscious joy for dangers escaped; their deep solici- 
tude about dangers to come; their trust in Heaven; their 
high religious faith, full of confidence and anticipation; 
all of these seem to belong to this place, and to be present 
upon this occasion, to fill us with reverence and admira- 
tion." 

In 1820, Mr. Webster served as an elector of President, 
at Mr. Monroe's second election; and in the same year he 
was chosen one of the delegates from Boston, to the State 
Convention which revised the Constitution of Massachu- 
setts. Among other distinguished members of this conven- 
tion was the venerable John Adams, then in the eighty- 
sixth year of his age. Mr. Webster was one of the most 
effective and powerful members of that renowned assembly, 
and took a leading part in the discussion of the most im- 
portant subjects that were brought before the convention. 

In the autumn of 1822, Mr. Webster was triumphantly 
elected Representative to Congress from the city of Bos- 
ton, and in December, 1823, took his seat in the House 
It was during this session that the question of the Greek 
Revolution was agitated in Congress. No subject w r as 
more congenial to Mr. Webster's feelings than this. Cher- 
ishing an indomitable love of liberty and of free institu- 
tions, he sympathized strongly with the oppressed, strug- 
gling Greeks, and raised his eloquent voice against the 
tyranny which sought to deprive them of the dearest 
rights of humanity. Like those great champions of hu- 
man freedom, Edmund Burke, Henry Grattan, and Charles 
James Fox, he came forward and fearlessly avowed his 
principles to the world. Early in the session, he moved 
the following resolution in the House of Representatives: 

Resolved, That provision ought to be made by law for 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 445 

defraying the expense incident to the appointment of an 
agent or commissioner to Greece, whenever the President 
shall deem it expedient to make such appointment. 

In support of this resolution, Mr. Webster delivered his 
famous speech, on the 19th of January, 1824, in " the pre- 
sence of an immense audience, brought together by the 
interesting nature of the subject and by the fame of the 
speaker, now returned, after six years' absence, to the 
field where he had gathered early laurels, and to which he 
had now come back with greatly augmented reputation. 
The public expectation was highly excited; and it is but 
little to say, that it was entirely fulfilled." 

The speech of Mr. Webster on The Revolution in 
Greece, will be remembered as long as there is a trace 
of American eloquence. Its perusal will animate the heart 
and nerve the arm of future patriots to the latest posterity. 
This speech is pronounced by the eminent Jeremiah Ma- 
son " the best sample of parliamentary eloquence and 
statesmanlike reasoning which our country can show." 
The exordium contains that beautiful allusion to Greece, 
as the mistress of the world in the arts and sciences. For 
the elegance of its, composition the passage deserves a 
place here, and in the memory of every admirer of ancient 
Grecian skill and glory: 

"I am afraid, Mr. Chairman, that, so far as my part in 
this discussion is concerned, those expectations which the 
public excitement existing on the subject, and certain as- 
sociations easily suggested by it, have conspired to raise, 
may be disappointed. An occasion which calls the atten- 
tion to a spot so distinguished, so connected with interest- 
ing recollections, as Greece, may naturally create something 
of warmth and enthusiasm. In a grave, political discus- 
sion, however, it is necessary that those feelings should be 
chastised. I shall endeavor properly to repress them, 
although it is impossible that they should be altogether 



443 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

extinguished. We must, indeed, liy beyond the civilized 
world ; we must pass the dominion of law and the boun- 
daries of knowledge; we must, more especially, withdraw 
ourselves from this place, and the scenes and objects which 
here surround us, — if we would separate ourselves en- 
tirely from the influence of all those memorials of herself 
which ancient Greece has transmitted for the admiration 
and the benefit of mankind. This free form of govern- 
ment, this popular assembly, the common council held for 
the common good, — where have we contemplated its ear- 
liest models? This practice of free debate and public dis- 
cussion, the contest of mind with mind, and that popular 
eloquence, which, if it were now here, on a subject like 
this, would move the stones of the Capitol, — whose was 
the language in which all these were first exhibited? Even 
the edifice in which we assemble, these proportioned col- 
umns, this ornamented architecture, all remind us that 
Greece has existed, and that we, like the rest of mankind, 
are greatly her debtors."* 

About the middle of the speech, Mr. Webster has pro- 
duced one of the finest passages in the language, on the 
power of public opinion over mere brutal force. To the 
question as to what this nation should do; whether we 
should declare war for the sake of Greece, and if not, if 
we would neither furnish armies nor navies, what we 
should do; what was in our power? he replied, in some 
of the happiest language he ever commanded: "Sir, 
this reasoning mistakes the age. The time has been, 
indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies were 
the principal reliances even in the best cause. But, 
happily for mankind, there has arrived a great change in 
this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, in 

* The interior of the hall of the House of Representatives is surrounded by 
a magnificent colonnade of the composite order. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 447 

proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced; and 
the public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining 
an ascendancy over mere brutal force. It may be silenced 
by military power, but it can not be conquered It is 
elastic, irrepressible, aud invulnerable to the weapons of 
ordinary warfare. It is that impassable, inextinguishable 
enemy of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like 
Milton's angels, 

' Vital in every part, 

Can not, but by annihilating, die.' 

" Unless this be propitiated or satisfied, it is in vain for 
power to talk either of triumphs or repose. No matter 
what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrendered, 
what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun, there is 
an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these tri- 
umphs. It follows the conquerer back to the very scene 
of his ovations; it calls upon him to take notice that the 
world, though silent, is yet indignant; it shows him that 
the scepter of his victory is a barren scepter; that it shall 
confer neither joy nor honor, but shall moulder to dry 
ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it 
pierces his ear with the Cry of injured justice; it de- 
nounces against him the indignation of an enlightened and 
civilized age; it turns to bitterness the cup of his rejoicing, 
and wounds him with the sting which belongs to the con- 
sciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind." 

When the corner-stone of the Bunker Hill Monument 
was laid on the 17th of June, 1825, the fiftieth anniversary 
of the battle, Mr. Webster was called upon to deliver the 
address; and it is hardly necessary to say that, on such a 
spot, and on such a theme, he enchained and thrilled the 
heart of his immense audience, by a strain of eloquence, 
as lc fty as ever flowed from human lips.* 

* The first great oration of Mr. Webster, on Bunker Hill, it is said 



448 ORATORS AXD STATESMEN. 

On such an occasion there was every thing to enkindle 
the patriotism and enthusiasm of an orator, and cause 
him to utter sublime ideas, — thoughts that breathe, and 
words that burn. Among the vast concourse of people 
that gathered around Bunker Hill to unite in the celebia- 
tion, were more than one hundred heroes of the ever- 
memorable battle. General Lafayette was also present, and 
assisted in laying the corner-stone of the monument. It 
was the most splendid celebration that had been witnessed 
on Bunker Hill. A brief description of the scene, from 
the excellent work of Mr. Frothingham, on the Siege of 
Boston, will be read with interest: 

" This celebration was unequaled in magnificence by 
any thing of the kind that had been seen in New England. 
The morning proved propitious. The air was cool, the 
sky was clear, and timely showers the previous day had 
brightened the vesture of nature into its loveliest hue. 
Delighted thousands flocked into Boston to bear a part in 
the proceedings, or to witness the spectacle. At about ten 
o'clock a procession moved from the State House towards 
Bunker Hill. The military, in their fine uniforms, formed 
the van. About two hundred veterans of the Revolution, 
of whom forty were survivors of the battle, rode in ba- 
rouches next to the escort. These venerable men, the 
relics of a past generation, with emaciated frames, totter- 
ing limbs, and trembling voices, constituted a touching 
spectacle. Some wore, as honorable decorations, their 
old fighting equipments, and some bore the scars of still 
more honorable wounds. Glistening eyes constituted their 



was modeled, even to its best passages, in Marshpee Brook, — the orator 
catching trout and elaborating sentences, at the same time. It is further re- 
lated, that, as the orator drew in some trout particularly large he was heard to 
exclaim, t; Venerable men! you have come down to us from a former genera- 
tion. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might bo- 
hold this joyous day." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 449 

answer to the enthusiastic cheers of the grateful multi- 
tudes who lined their pathway and cheered their progress. 
To this patriot band succeeded the Bunker Hill Monument 
Association. Then the Masonic fraternity, in their splen- 
did regalia, thousands in number. Then Lafayette, con- 
tinually welcomed by tokens of love and gratitude, and 
the invited guests. Then a long array of societies, with 
their various badges and banners. It was a splendid pro- 
cession, and of such length that the front nearly reached 
Charlestown Bridge ere the rear had left Boston Common. 
It proceeded to Breed's Hill, where the Grand Master of 
the Freemasons, the President of the Monument Associa- 
tion, and General Lafayette, performed the ceremony of 
laying the corner-stone, in the presence of a vast concourse 
of people." 

It was in " the presence of as great a multitude as was 
ever perhaps assembled within the sound of a human 
voice " that Mr. Webster delivered his great, patriotic ora- 
tion on Bunker Hill Monument; and it was then that he 
gave utterance to passages of Demosthenian fire — passages 
that will live forever — live in the memory of American 
citizens as long as the bright bow of Liberty shall over- 
arch, with its glorious beams, our happy land. Almost 
every young American scholar has portions of this cele- 
brated speech by heart. It is known every where. We 
select a single passage, the closing lines of which fall so 
sweetly upon the ear: 

" We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which must for 
ever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whoso- 
ever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may be- 
hold that the place is not undistinguished where the first 
great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that 
this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance 
of that event to every class and every age. We wish that 

infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from ma- 
57 



450 ORATORS AND SI ATESMEN. 

ternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold 
it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. 
We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud, in 
the midst of its toil. We wish that, in those days of dis- 
aster, which, as they come upon all nations, must be ex- 
pected to come upon us also, desponding patriotism may 
turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the founda- 
tions of our national power are still strong. We wish 
that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed 
spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contri- 
bute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of de- 
pendence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last 
object to the sight of him who leaves his native shore, 
and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be some- 
thing which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory 
of his country. Let it rise ! let it rise ! till it meet the sun in 
his coming ! — let the earliest light of the morning gild it, 
and parting day linger and play on its summit.'''' 

On the 4th of July, 1826, the fiftieth anniversay of the 
Declaration of Independence, the decease of those illus- 
trious patriots of the Revolution, John Adams and Thomas 
Jefferson, took place. This was a most extraordinary co- 
incidence. The removal of these great statesmen by death, 
on such a day and within a few hours of each other, pro- 
duced a powerful impression on the public mind. It was 
an event which spread mourning through the land. In 
Boston, the demonstration of sorrow was very great. 
Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American liberty, was shrouded 
in black. Great preparations were made for performing 
a grand funeral service there. Mr. Webster was invited by 
the municipal authorities to deliver an oration commem* 
orative of the lives and services of the departed states- 
men; and on the 2d of August, 1826, in Faneuil Hall, in 
the presence of an immense audience, he pronounced 
the greatest funeral discourse that any language has pro- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 451 

duced. " The funeral orations of Bossuet, deservedly so 
celebrated, have not the repose, the dignity, nor sublimity 
of this. It sounds like a solemn anthem throughout." 
It was conceived and executed with rare felicity — in the 
most glowing and elevated language — in the highest tone 
of eloquence. What, for instance, can be more thrilling, 
than the following passage, proclaiming the immortality 
of Adams and Jefferson: "Although no sculptured marble 
should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear re- 
cord of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as 
lasting as the land they honored. Marble columns may, 
indeed, moulder into dust, time may erase all impress from 
the crumbling stone, but their fame remains; for w T ith 
American liberty it rose, and with American liberty only 
can it perish. It was the last swelling peal of yonder 
choir, 6 Their bodies are buried in peace, but their name 
liveth evermore.' I catch that solemn song, I echo that 
lofty strain of funeral triumph, ' Their name liveth ever- 
more.' "* 

In this speech we have Mr. Webster's celebrated defini- 
tion of genuine, patriotic eloquence. It is one of the 
finest strokes of his genius, as well as one of the most 
beautiful descriptions of the kind that ancient or modern 
eloquence has produced: 

" When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 
occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong 
passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther 
than as it is connected with high intellectual and moral 
endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the 

* It has. perhaps, never been the fortune of an orator to treat a subject 
in all respects so extraordinary as that which called forth the eulogy on Adams 
and Jefferson; a subject in which the characters commemorated, the field of 
action, the magnitude of the events, and the peculiar per3onal relations, were 
so important and unusual. Certainly it is not extravagant to add, that no 
similar effort of oratory was ever more completely successful. — Everett. 



452 ORATORS ANT) STATESMEN. 

qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, in- 
deed, does not consist in speech. It can not be brought 
from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will 
toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every 
way, but they can not compass it. It must exist in the 
man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, 
intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may 
aspire to it; they can not reach it. It comes, if it come at 
all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or 
the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, 
original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, 
the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, 
shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate 
of their wives, their children, and their Country, hang on 
the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their 
power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory con- 
temptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and sub- 
dued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriot- 
ism is eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear 
conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high 
purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on 
the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, 
and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his 
objecty — this, this is eloquence; or rather it is something 
greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, noble, 
sublime, god-like action." 

" The speech ascribed to John Adams in the Continental 
Congress," says Mr. Everett, " on the subject of declaring 
the independence of the Colonies, — a speech of which the 
topics of course present themselves on the most superficial 
considerations of the subject, but of which a few hints 
only of what actually was said are supplied by the letters 
and diaries- of Mr. Adams — is not excelled by any thing 
of the kind in our language. Few things have taken so 
strong a hold of the public mind. It thrills and delights 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 453 

alike the student of history, who recognizes it at once as 
the creation of the orator, and the common reader, who 
takes it to be the composition, not of Mr. Webster, but of 
Mr. Adams." 

In the following well known passage, Mr. Webster from 
the scantiest materials has built up a noble fabric. So 
admirable is the speech itself, and so characteristic is it of 
what is known of Mr. Adams, that one is in doubt for 
which excellence it is deserving the greater praise: 

"In July, 1776, the controversy had passed the stage of 
argument. An appeal had been made to force, and oppos- 
ing armies were in the field. Congress, then, was to de- 
cide whether the tie which had so long bound us to the 
parent state was to be severed at once, and severed for 
ever. All the Colonies had signified their resolution to 
abide by this decision, and the people looked for it with 
the most intense anxiety. And surely, fellow-citizens, 
never, never were men called to a more important politi- 
cal deliberation. If we contemplate it from the point 
where they then stood, no question could be more full of 
interest; if we look at it now, and judge of its importance 
by its effects, it appears of still greater magnitude. 

" Let us, then, bring before us the assembly, which was 
about to decide a question thus big with the fate of em- 
pire. Let us open their doors and look in upon their de- 
liberations. Let us survey the anxious and care-worn 
countenances, let us hear the firm- toned voices, of this 
band of patriots. 

" Hancock presides over the solemn sitting; and one of 
those not yet prepared to pronounce for absolute inde- 
pendence is on the floor, and is urging his reasons for dis- 
senting from the declaration. 

"' Let us pause! This step, once taken, can not be re 
traced. This resolution, once passed, will cut off all hope 
of reconciliation. If success attend the arms of England, 



454 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

we shall then be no longer Colonies, with charters and 
with privileges ; these will all be forfeited by this act; and 
we shall be in the condition of other conquered people, at 
the mercy of the conquerors. For ourselves, we may be 
ready to run the hazard; but are we ready to carry the 
country to that length? Is success so probable as to jus- 
tify it? Where is the military, where the naval power, 
by which we are to resist the whole strength of the arm 
of England, for she will exert that strength to the utmost? 
Can we rely on the constancy and perseverance of the 
people? or will they not act as the people of other countries 
have acted, and, wearied with a long war, submit, in the 
end, to a worse oppression? While we stand on our old 
ground, and insist on redress of grievances, we know we 
are right, aad are not answerable for consequences. Noth- 
ing, then, can be imputed to us. But if we now change 
our object, carry our pretensions farther, and set up for 
absolute independence, we shall lose the sympathy of 
mankind. We shall no longer be defending what we 
possess, but struggling for something which we never did 
possess, and which we have solemnly and uniformly dis- 
claimed all intention of pursuing, from the very outset of 
the troubles. Abandoning thus our old ground, of resist- 
ance only to arbitrary acts of oppression, the nations will 
believe the whole to have been mere pretence, and they 
will look on us, not as injured, but as ambitious subjects. 
I shudder before this responsibility. It will be on us, if, re- 
linquishing the ground on which we have stood so long, and 
stood so safely, we now proclaim independence, and carry 
on the war for that object, while these cities burn, these 
pleasant fields whiten and bleach with the bones of their 
owners, and these streams run blood. It will be upon us, 
it will be upon us, if, failing to maintain this unseasonable 
and ill-judged declaration, a sterner despotism, maintained 
by military power, shall be established over our posterity, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 455 

when we ourselves, given up by an exhausted, a harassed, 
a misled people, shall have expiated our rashness and 
atoned for our presumption on the scaffold.'' 

" It was for Mr. Adams to reply to arguments like these. 
We know his opinions, and we know his character. He 
would commence with his accustomed directness and ear- 
nestness. 

" ' Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give 
my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, 
that in the beginning we aimed not at independence. But 
there's a Divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice 
of England has driven us to arms; and, blinded to her 
own interests for our good she has obstinately persisted, 
till independence is now within our grasp. We have but 
to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we 
defer the Declaration? Is any man so weak as now to 
hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave 
either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to 
his own life and his own honor? Are not you, Sir, who 
sit in that chair, is not he, our venerable colleague near 
you, are you not both already the proscribed and pre- 
destined objects of punishment and of vengeance? Cut o*ft 
from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can 
you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? 
If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to 
give up, the war? Do we mean to submit to the measures 
of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all? Do we mean to 
submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to 
powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in 
the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We never 
shall submit. Do we intend to violate that most solemn 
obligation ever entered in Co by men, that plighting, before 
God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when, putting 
him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the poli- 
tical hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him, 



456 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives? I 
know there is not a man here, who would not rather see 
a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earth- 
quake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith 
fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months 
ago, in this place, moved you, that George Washington be 
appointed commander of the forces raised, or to be raised, 
for defense of American liberty, may my right hand for- 
get her cunning and my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him. 

" ' The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. 
And if the war must go on, why put off' longer the De- 
claration of Independence? That measure will strengthen 
us. It will give us character abroad. The nations will 
then treat with us, which they never can do while we 
acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms against our sover- 
eign. Nay, I maintain that England herself will sooner 
treat for peace with us on the footing of independence, 
than consent, by repealing her acts, to acknowledge that 
her whole conduct towards us has been a course of injus- 
tice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded by 
submitting to that course of things which now predesti- 
nates our independence, than by yielding the points in con- 
troversy to her rebellious subjects. The former she would 
regard as the result of fortune; the latter she would feel 
as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why then, Sir, do 
we not as soon as possible change this from a civil to a 
national war? And since we must fight it through, why 
not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of 
victory, if we gain the victory? 

k ' ' If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall 
not fail. The cause will raise up armies; the cause will 
create navies. The people, the people, if we are true to 
them will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously, 
through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 457 

have been found. I know the people of these Colonies, 
and I know that resistance to British aggression is deep 
and settled in their hearts, and can not be eradicated. 
Every Colony, indeed, has expressed its willingness to 
follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the Declaration will 
inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a 
long and bloody war for the restoration of privileges, for 
redress of grievances, for chartered immunities, held under 
a British king, set before them the glorious object of en- 
tire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the 
breath of life. Read this Declaration at the head of the 
army; every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and 
the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on 
the bed of honor Publish it from the pulpit; religion 
will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling 
round it, resolve to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it 
to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them hear it 
who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon; let them 
see it who saw their brothers and their sons fall on the 
field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and 
Concord, and the verj r walls will cry out in its support. 

" ' Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I 
see, I see clearly, through this day's business. You and 
I, indeed, may rue it.' We may not live to the time when 
this Declaration shall be made good. We may die; die 
colonists; die slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously and on 
the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of 
Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering of 
my life, the victim shall be ready, at the appointed hour 
of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while I do 
live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a 
country, and that a free country. 

" ' But whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured 

that this Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, 

and it may cos' 1 blood; but it will stand, and it will richly 
58 



458 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

compensate for both. Tlir jugh the thick gloom of the 
present, I S3e the brightness of the future, as the sun in 
heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. 
When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. 
They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, 
with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return 
they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of sub- 
jection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of 
exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I 
believe the hour has come. My judgment approves th's 
measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, 
and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am 
now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave off as I begun, 
that live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declara- 
tion. It is my living sentiment and by the blessing of 
God it shall be my dying sentiment, Independence now, 
and Independence for ever.' " 

In November, 1826, Mr. Webster was re-elected almost 
unanimously to Congress; but before the meeting of that 
body he was chosen, in June, 1827, by the Legislature of 
Massachusetts, to the Senate of the United States in the 
place of the Hon. Elijah H. Mills. Mr. Webster continued 
in the Senate, till he was appointed Secretary of State, 
under President Harrison, in 1841. 

Passing over the subjects which successively engaged 
the attention of Mr. Webster, during the first two years of 
his senatorial career, we come to notice the most import- 
ant era in his political life; — a period when his intellect 
and his eloquence shone in the highest noon of splendor; — 
when he " gained, at once and forever, the highest rank as 
a debater and orator." We refer, of course, to the great 
debate on Foot's resolution, in which Mr. Webster so ably 
defended the Constitution, sustained the Union, and over- 
threw the doctrine of nullification, so vehemently urged 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 459 

by Col. Hayne of South Carolina* It was, in fact, a con- 
test between the North and the South. 

This greatest intellectual contest of the age, arose out 
of the following resolution, offered in the Senate, by Mr. 
Foot of Connecticut, on the 29th of December, 1829: 

" Resolved, That the Committee on Public Lands be in- 
structed to inquire and report the quantity of public lands 
remaining unsold within each State and Territory. And 
whether it be expedient to limit for a certain period the 
sales of the public lands to such lands only as have here- 
tofore been offered for sale and are now subject to entry at 
the minimum price. And, also, whether the office of Sur- 
veyor-General and some of the land offices, may not be 
abolished without detriment, to the public interest; or 
whether it be expedient to adopt measures to hasten the 
sales and extend more rapidly the surveys of the public 
lands." 

On the 18th of January, Mr. Benton of Missouri, took 
the floor against the resolution. On the following day, 
Mr. Hayne spoke at considerable length on the same side. 
When he took his seat, Mr. Webster rose to reply, but 

* Robert Y. Hayne, the great antagonist of Daniel Webster, and one of 
the most brilliant orators of the South, was born near Charleston, South 
Carolina, on the 10th of November, 1791. The Senate of the United States 
was the theater of his greatest glory. Here he acquired a reputatiou that 
will last forever. In 1832, Mr. Hayne was elected governor of South Caro- 
lina. He died on the 24th of September, 1841, in the 48th year of his age. 

Col. Hayne possessed some of the highest characteristics of eloquence. He 
was often vehement and impassioned. His invectives were unsparing. " His 
voice was full and melodious, and his manner, earnest and impressive. Full 
of ingenuous sensibility, his eyes were as expressive as his tongue, and as he 
poured out his thoughts or feelings, either in a strain of captivating sweet- 
ness, or of impetuous and overbearing passion, every emotion of his soul was 
distinctly depicted in the lineaments of his countenance. His mind was active, 
energetic, and aggressive. He was full of enthusiasm, altogether in earnest; 
when he spoke, every limb of his body, and every feature of his countenance 
sympathized with the action of his mind." 



460 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

gave way to a motion for adjournment from Mr. Benton. 
On the 20th, Mr. Webster delivered his first speech on 
the resolution. On the 21st, Col. Hayne took the floor 
and spoke an hour, violently attacking New England and 
Mr. Webster, her most distinguished representative. In 
the conclusion of his speech, giving Mr. Webster a fair 
warning of the fate that awaited him, he said: 

" Sir, the gentleman from Massachusetts has thought 
proper for purposes best known to himself, to strike the 
South through me; the most unworthy of her servants. 
He has crossed the border, he has invaded the State of 
South Carolina, is making war upon her citizens, and en- 
deavoring to overthrow her principles and her institutions. 
Sir, when the gentleman provokes me to such a conflict, I 
meet Lim at the threshold — I will struggle, while I have 
life, for our altars and our firesides, and if God gives me 
strength, I will drive back the invader discomfited. Nor 
shall I stop there. If the gentleman provokes war, he 
shall have war. Sir, I will not stop at the border; I will 
carry the war into the enemy's territory, and not consent 
to lay down my arms, until I shall have obtained ' indem- 
nity for the past, and security for the future.' It is with 
unfeigned reluctance that I enter upon the performance 

u Hayne dashed into debate, like the Mameluke cavalry upon a charge. 
There was a gallant air about him, that could not but win admiration. He 
never provided for retreat; he never imagined it. He had an invincible confi- 
dence in himself, which arose partly from consticutional temperament, partly 
from previous success. His was the Napoleonic warfare; to strike at once for 
the capitol of the enemy, heedless of danger or cost to his own forces. Not 
doubting to overcome all odds, he feared none, however seemingly superior. 
Of great fluency and no little force of expression, his speech never halted, and 
seldom fatigued. 

" His oratory was graceful and persuasive. An impassioned manner, some- 
what vehement at times, but rarely if ever extravagant; a voice well-modu- 
lated and clear; a distinct, though rapid enunciation; a confident, but not often 
offensive address; these, accompanying and illustrating language well selected, 
and periods well tu^^si, made him a popular and effective speaker ." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 461 

of this part of my duty: I shrink, almost instinctively, 
from a course, however necessary, which may have a ten- 
dency to excite sectional feelings, and sectional jealousies. 
But Sir, the task has been forced upon me, and I proceed 
right onward to the performance of my duty; be the con- 
sequences what they may, the responsibility is with those 
who have imposed upon me the necessity. The Senator 
from Massachusetts has thought proper to cast the first 
stone, and if he shall find, according to a homely adage, 
that ' he lives in a glass-house,' on his head be the conse- 
quences." 

On Monday, the 25th, in concluding his argument, Col. 
Hayne made a long and brilliant speech which " was still 
more strongly characterized than the first with severity, 
not to say bitterness, towards the Eastern States. The 
tone toward Mr. Webster personally was not courteous. It 
bordered on the offensive." When Col. Hayne had con- 
cluded his speech, Mr. Webster immediately rose to reply, 
but, it being late in the day, gave way to a motion for ad- 
journment. 

As the Massachusetts Senator walked down the center- 
w r alk in the Capitol park, after the delivery of Col. 
Hayne's speech, a friend said to him: " Mr. Webster, that 
will be a difficult speech to answer." " We shall see," 
said Mr. W T ebster, taking off his hat, and passing his hand 
over his forehead, " we — shall — see, sir, to-morrow: we 
shall see to-morrow, sir!" 

" And they did see — and the country — and the world. 
When Daniel Webster, with his dark, lustrous eyes, looked 
through the glass dome of the Senate chamber, over which 
the banner of his country was floating, he gave utterance 
to words which will be as immortal as the earth on which 
that Capitol stands." 

Even after the impetuous onset of Col. Havne was over, 
some of his friends, who knew Mr. Webster's power,- who 



•162 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

had felt it directed against themselves, were doubtful aa 
to the final success of their champion. Among these, 
were Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Iredell, a senator from North 
Carolina. The latter remarked to a friend who was prais- 
ing Mr. Hayne's speech; "He has started the lion — but 
wait till we hear his roar, or feel his claws." The world 
knows that Col. Hayne and his friends did both hear his 
roar and feel his claws. 

The scene in the Senate chamber, on the' 26th of Janu- 
ary, 1830 — the day on which Mr. Webster delivered his 
great speech on Foot's resolution — is vividly described by 
Mr. March. No writer has presented such a graphic state- 
ment of the circumstances connected with this remarkable 
effort as this distinguished author has done. From his 
animated pages, we present the following extract which 
will be read with interest as long *as that famous debate 
shall be remembered: 

" It was on Tuesday, January the 26th, 1830, — a day 
to be hereafter forever memorable in Senatorial annals, — 
that the Senate resumed the consideration of Foote's Re- 
solution. There never was before, in the city, an occasion 
of so much excitement. To witness this great intellectual 
contest, multitudes of strangers had for two or three days 
previous been rushing into the city, and the hotels over- 
flowed. As early as 9 o'clock of this morning, crowds 
poured into the Capitol, in hot haste; at 12 o'clock, the 
hour of meeting, the Senate chamber, — its galleries, floor 
and even lobbies, — was filled to its utmost capacity. The 
very stairways were dark with men, who hung on to one 
another, like bees in a swarm. 

" The House of Representatives was early deserted. An 
adjournment would have hardly made it emptier. The 
Speaker, it is true, retained his chair, but no business of 
moment was, or could be, attended to. Members all rushed 
in to hear Mr. Webster, an 1 io call of the House or other 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 403 

parliamentary proceedings could compel them back. The 
floor of the Senate was so densely crowded, that persons 
once in could not get out, nor change their position; in 
the rear of the Vice-Presidential chair, the crowd was par- 
ticularly intense. Dixon H. Lewis, then a Representative 
from Alabama, became wedged in here. From his enor- 
mous size, it was impossible for him to move without dis- 
placing a vast portion of the multitude. Unfortunately 
too, for him, he was jammed in directly behind the chair of 
the Vice-President, where he could not see, and could hardly 
hear, the speaker. By slow and laborious effort — pausing 
occasionally to breathe — he gained one of the windows, 
which, constructed of painted glass, flanked the chair of 
the Vice-President on either side. Here he paused, unable 
to make more headway. But determined to see Mr. Web- 
ster as he spoke, with his knife he made a large hole in 
one of the panes of the glass; which is still visible as he 
made it. Many were so placed, as not to be able to see 
the speaker at all. 

" The courtesy of Senators accorded to the fairer sex 
room on the floor — the most gallant of them, their owji 
seats. The gay bonnets and brilliant dresses threw a 
varied and picturesque beauty over the scene, softening 
and embellishing it. 

" Seldom, if ever, has a speaker in this or any other 
country had more powerful incentives to exertion; a sub- 
ject, the determination of which involved the most im- 
portant interests, and even duration, of the republic; 
competitors, unequaled in reputation, ability, or position; 
a name to be made still more glorious, or lost forever; and 
an audience, comprising not only persons of this country 
most eminent in intellectual greatness, but representatives 
of other nations, where the art of eloquence had flourished 
for ages. All the soldier seeks in opportunity was here. 

" Mr. Webster perceived, and felt equal to, the destinies 



464 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

of the moment. The very greatness of the hazard exhila- 
rated him. His spirits rose with the occasion. He awaited 
the time of onset with a stern and impatient joy. He 
felt, like the war-horse of the Scriptures, — who ' paweth 
in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: who goeth on 
to meet the, armed men, — who sayeth among the trumpets, 
Ha, ha! and who smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder 
of the captains and the shouting.' 

" A confidence in his own resources, springing from no 
vain estimate of his power, but the legitimate offspring 
of previous severe mental discipline sustained and excited 
him. He had gauged his opponents, his subject and him- 
self. 

" He was too, at this period, in the very prime of man- 
hood. He had reached middle age — an era in the life of 
man, when the faculties, physical or intellectual, may be 
supposed to attain their fullest organization, and most per- 
fect development. Whatever there was in him of intel- 
lectual energy and vitality, the occasion, his full life and 
high ambition, might well bring forth. 

" He never rose on an ordinary occasion to address an 
ordinary audience more self-possessed. There was no 
tremulousness in his voice nor manner; nothing hurried, 
nothing simulated. The calmness of superior strength 
was visible everywhere; in countenance, voice and bear- 
ing. A deep-seated conviction of the extraordinary char- 
acter of the emergency, and of his ability to control it, 
seemed to possess him wholly. If an observer, more than 
ordinarily keen-sighted, detected at times something like 
exultation in his eye, he presumed it sprang from the ex- 
citement of the moment, and the anticipation of victory. 

" The anxiety to hear the speech was so intense, irre- 
pressible, and universal, that no sooner had the Vice- 
President assumed the chair, than a motion was made and 
unanimously carried, to postpone the ordinary prelimina- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 465 

ries of Senatorial action, and to take up immediately 
the consideration of the resolution. 

" Mr. Webster rose and addressed the Senate. His ex- 
ordium is known by heart, everywhere: 'Mr. President, 
when the mariner has been tossed, for many days, in thick 
weather, and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails him- 
self of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance of 
the sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how far the 
elements have driven him from his true course. Let us 
imitate this prudence; and before we float further, on the 
waves of this debate, refer to the point from which we 
departed, that we may, at least, be able to form some con- 
jecture where we now are. I ask for the reading of the 
resolution.' 

" There wanted no more to enchain the attention. There 
was a spontaneous, though silent, expression of eager ap- 
probation, as the orator concluded these opening remarks. 
And while the clerk read the resolution, many attempted 
the impossibility of getting nearer the speaker. Every 
head was inclined closer towards him, every ear turned in 
the direction of his voice — and that deep, sudden, mys- 
terious silence followed, which always attends fullness of 
emotion. From the sea of upturned faces before him, the 
orator beheld his thoughts reflected as from a mirror. 
The varying countenance, the suffused eye, the earnest 
smile, and ever-attentive look assured him of his audi- 
ence's entire sympathy. If among his hearers there were 
those who affected at first an indifference to his glowing 
thoughts and fervent periods, the difficult mask was soon 
laid aside, and profound, undisguised, devoted attention 
followed. In the earlier part of his speech, one of his 
principal opponents seemed deeply engrossed in the care- 
ful perusal of a newspaper he held before his face; but 
this, on nearer approach, proved to be upside down. In 

truth, all, sooner or later, voluntarily, or in spite of them- 
59 



466 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

selves, were wholly carried away by the eloquence of the 
orator. 

" Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's ability to cope 
with and overcome his opponents were fully satisfied of 
their error before he had proceeded far in his speech. 
Their fears soon took another direction. When they heard 
his sentences of powerful thought, towering in accumula- 
tive grandeur, one above the other, as if the orator strove, 
Titan-like, to reach the very heavens themselves, they 
were giddy with an apprehension that he would break 
down in his flight. They dared not believe, that genius, 
learning, any intellectual endowment however uncommon, 
that was simply mortal, could sustain itself long in a 
career seemingly so perilous. They feared an Icarian fall. 

" Ah ! who can ever forget, that w T as present to hear, 
the tremendous, the aicful burst of eloquence with which 
the orator spoke of the Old Bay State ! or the tones of 
deep pathos in w T hich the words were pronounced: 

" ( Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon 
Massachusetts. There she is — behold her, and judge for 
yourselves. There is her history: the w 7 orld knows it by 
heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and 
Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill — and there 
they will remain for ever. The bones of her sons, falling 
in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled 
with the soil of every State, from New England to 
Georgia; and there they will lie fo rever. And, sir, where 
American Liberty raised its first voice; and where its 
youth w r as nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in 
the strength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. 
If discord and disunion shall wound it — if party strife 
and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it — if folly 
and madness — if uneasiness, under salutary and necessary 
restraint — shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by 
which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 467 

the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy 
was rocked: it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of 
vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gather 
round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the 
proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very 
spot of its origin.' 

" What New England heart was there but throbbed with 
vehement, tumultuous, irrepressible emotion, as he dwelt 
upon New England sufferings, New England struggles, and 
New England triumphs during the war of the Revolution? 
There was scarcely a dry eye in the Senate; all hearts 
were overcome; grave judges and men grown old in dig- 
nified life turned aside their heads, to conceal the evi- 
dences of their emotion. 

" In one corner of the gallery was clustered a group of 
Massachusetts men. They had hung from the first moment 
upon the words of the speaker, with feelings variously 
but always warmly excited, deepening in intensity as he 
proceeded. At first, while the orator was going through 
his exordium, they held their breath and hid their faces, 
mindful of the savage attack upon him and New England, 
and the fearful odds against him, her champion; — as he 
went deeper into his speech, they felt easier; when he 
turned Hayne's flank on Banquo's ghost, they breathed 
freer and deeper. But now, as he alluded to Massachu- 
setts, their feelings were strained to the highest tension; 
and when the orator, concluding his encomium upon the 
land of their birth, turned intentionally, or otherwise, 
his burning eye full upon them — they shed tears like girls ! 

" No one who was not present can understand the excite- 
ment of the scene. No one, who was, can give an ade- 
quate description of it. No word-painting can convey 
the deep, intense enthusiasm, — the reverential attention, 
of that vas* assembly — nor limner transfer to canvass 
their earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances. Though 



468 ORATORS AND STATESMEN.. 

language were as subtile and flexible as thought, it still 
would be impossible to represent the full idea of the 
scene. There is something intangible in an emotion, which 
can not be transferred The nicer shades of feeling elude 
pursuit. Every description, therefore, of the occasion, 
seems to the narrator himself most tame, spiritless, unjust. 

" Much of the instantaneous effect of the speech arose, 
of course, from the orator's delivery — the tones of his 
voice, his countenance, and manner. These die mostly 
with the occasion that calls them forth — the impression 
is lost in the attempt at transmission from one mind to 
another. They can only be described in general terms. 
* Of the effectiveness of Mr. Webster's manner, in many 
parts,' says Mr. Everett, c it would be in vain to attempt 
to give any one not present the faintest idea. It has been 
my fortune to hear some of the ablest speeches of the 
greatest living orators on both sides of the water, but I 
must confess, I never heard any thing which so completely 
realized my conception of what Demosthenes was when he 
delivered the Oration for the Crown.' 

" The variety of incident during the speech, and the 
rapid fluctuation of passions, kept the audience in con- 
tinual expectation and ceaseless agitation. There was no 
chord of the heart the orator did not strike, as with a 
master-hand. The speech was a complete drama of comic 
and pathetic scenes: one varied excitement; laughter and 
tears gaining alternate victory. 

" A great portion of the speech is s trictly argumenta- 
tive; an exposition of constitutional law. But grave as 
such portion necessarily is, severely logical, abounding in 
no fancy or episode, it engrossed throughout the undivided 
attention of every intelligent hearer. Abstractions, under 
the glowing genius of the orator, acquired a beauty, a 
vitality, a power to thrill the blood and enkindle the af- 
fections, awakening into earnest activity many a dormant 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 469 

faculty. His ponderous syllables had an energy, a vehem- 
ence of meaning in them that fascinated, while they 
startled. His thoughts in their statuesque beauty merely 
would have gained all critical judgment; but he realized 
the antique fable, and warmed the marble into life. There 
was a sense of power in his language, — of power with- 
held and suggestive of still greater power, — that subdued, 
as by a spell of mystery, the hearts of all. For power, 
whether intellectual or physical, produces in its earnest 
development a feeling closely allied to awe. It was never 
more felt than on this occasion. It had entire mastery. 
The sex, which is said to love it best and abuse it most, 
seemed as much or more carried away than the sterner 
one. Many who had entered the hall with light, gay 
thoughts, anticipating at most a pleasurable excitement, 
soon became deeply interested in the speaker and his sub- 
ject — surrendered him their entire heart; and, when the 
speech was over, and they left the hall, it was with sadder 
perhaps, but, surely, with far more elevated and ennobling 
emotions. 

" The exulting rush of feeling with which he went 
through the peroration threw a glow over his countenance, 
like inspiration. Eye, brow, each feature, every line of 
the face seemed touched, as with a celestial fire. 

" The swell and roll of his voice struck upon the ears 
of tke spell-bound audience, in deep and melodious ca- 
dence, as waves upon the shore of the ' far-resounding ' 
sea. The Miltonic grandeur of his words was the fit ex- 
pression of his thought and raised his hearers up to nis 
theme. His voice, exerted to its utmost power, penetrated 
every recess or corner of the Senate — penetrated even 
the ante-rooms and stairways, as he pronounced in deepest 
tones of pathos these words of solemn significance: 'When 
my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the 
sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken 



470 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; on 
States dissevered, discordant, belligerent! on a land rent 
with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal 
blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather 
behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known 
and honored throughout the earth, still full high ad- 
vanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original 
luster, not a stripe erased nor polluted, not a single star 
obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable inter- 
rogatory as, What is all this worth? Nor those other 
words of delusion and folly, Liberty first and Union after- 
wards; but every where, spread all over in characters of 
living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float 
over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under 
the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every 
American heart, Liberty and Union, now and forever, one 

AND INSEPARABLE !' 

" The speech was over, but the tones of the orator still 
lingered upon the ear, and the audience, unconscious of 
the close, retained their positions. The agitated counte- 
nance, the heaving breast, the suffused eye attested the 
continued influence of the spell upon them. Hands that 
in the excitement of the moment had sought each other, 
still remained closed in an unconscious grasp. Eye still 
turned to eye, to receive and repay mutual sympathy; — 
and every where around seemed forgetfulness of all but 
the orator's presence and words." 

The great speech of Mr. Webster in reply to Col. Hayne, 
is justly regarded as the ablest of his productions, and 
may, probably, with truth, be pronounced, says Mr. Ever- 
ett, the most celebrated speech ever delivered in Congress, 
We may say more — that it has no superior in the annals 
of parliamentary debate — that in many respects, it was 
the greatest oratorical effort ever made by any statesman 
in ancient or modern times. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 471 

In this great intellectual conflict — this ooJision of 
mind with mind — Mr. Webster won laurels, as unfading, 
as ever graced a Senator's brow. Neither Demosthenes 
nor Cicero in their palmiest days obtained a brighter 
fame. 

The same year that Mr. Webster gained such immortal 
triumph in the Senate, he added additional luster to his 
fame in the forum, by an extraordinary forensic effort. 

It was in 1830, that he made his argument on the trial 
of John Francis Knapp, for the murder of Captain Joseph 
White,* of Salem, Massachusetts. The argument closes 
with a passage of uncommon beauty on the power of con- 
science. There is nothing in the language, says Mr. Ever- 
ett, superior to it. When reminding the jury of the obli- 
gation they were under to discharge their duty, he thus 
concluded his effort: 

" With consciences satisfied with the discharge of duty, 
no consequences can harm you. There is no evil that we 
can not either face or fly from, but the consciousness of 
duty disregarded. A sense of duty pursues us ever. It is 
omnipresent like the Deity. If we take to ourselves the 
wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of 
the sea, duty performed, or duty violated, is still with us, 
for our happiness or our misery. If we say the darkness 
shall cover us, in the darkness as in the light our obliga- 
tions are yet with us. We can not escape their power, nor 
fly from their presence. They are with us in this life, will 
be with us at its close; and in that scene of inconceiv- 
able solemnity, which lies yet farther onward, we shall 
still find ourselves surrounded by the consciousness of 
duty, to pain us wherever it has been violated, and to 

* The reader will find an interesting account of this remarkable murder and 
of the trial, in an article, written by Mr. Merril, and prefixed to Mr. Webster's 
argument in the sixth volume of his works. Mr. March has also devoted a 
chapter to this subject in his Reminisrenses of Congress. 



472 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

console us so far as God may have given us grace to per- 
form it." 

In the winter of 1833, when the doctrine of nullification 
was so vehemently advocated in the Senate by Mr. Cal- 
houn, — when South Carolina was on the verge of revolu- 
tion, — when the whole country was on the point of being 
involved in a civil war, — Mr. Webster came forward 
again, as the defender of the Constitution and the Union. 

Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Webster were now engaged in 
their greatest intellectual struggle. Each put forth all his 
resources;— the one to defend, the other to crush the doc- 
trine of nullification. To witness this great intellectual 
combat between two of the most accomplished debaters 
the world has ever seen, multitudes were attracted to the 
Capiiol. The Senate chamber was densely crowded when 
their speeches were delivered. It was on the 15th and 
16th of February, 1833, that Mr. Calhoun delivered his 
celebrated speech against the Force Bill, and in support 
of his own resolutions. It was, perhaps, the greatest effort 
he ever made in the Senate. As soon as he concluded, 
Mr. Webster took the floor in reply, and made a speech 
scarcely inferior to his great speech in reply to Hayne. It 
is difficult to produce a finer piece of parliamentary logic. 
Mr. Webster commenced by saying: 

" Mr. President, — The gentleman from South Carolina 
has admonished us to be mindful of the opinions of those 
who shall come after us. We must take our chance, Sir, 
as to the light in which posterity will regard us. I do not 
decline its judgment, nor withhold myself from its scru- 
tiny. Feeling that I am performing my public duty with 
singleness of heart and to the best of my ability, I fear- 
lessly trust myself to the country, now and hereafter, and 
leave both my motives and my character to its decision. 

" The gentleman has terminated his speech in a tone of 
threat and defiance towards this bill, even should it be- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 473 

come a law of the land, altogether unusual in the halls of 
Congress. But I shall not suffer myself to be excited into 
warmth by this denunciation of the measure which I sup- 
port. Among the feelings which at this moment fill my 
breast, not the least is that of regret at the position in 
which the gentleman has placed himself. Sir, he does, 
himself no justice. The cause which he has espoused 
finds no basis in the Constitution, no succor from public 
sympathy, no cheering from a patriotic community. He 
has no foothold on which to stand while he might display 
the powers of his acknowledged talents. Every thing be- 
neath his feet is hollow and treacherous. He is like a 
strong man struggling in a morass: every effort to extricate 
himself only sinks him deeper and deeper. And I fear 
the resemblance may be carried still farther; I fear that 
no friend can safely come to his relief, that no one can 
approach near enough to hold out a helping hand, without 
danger of going down himself, also, into the bottomless, 
depths of this Serbonian bog. 

" The honorable gentleman has declared, that on the 
decision of the question now in debate may depend the 
cause of liberty itself. I am of the same opinion; but 
then, Sir, the liberty which I think is staked on the con- 
test is not political liberty, in any general and undefined 
character, but our own well-understood and long-enjoyed 
American liberty. 

" Sir, I love Liberty no less ardently than the gentleman 
himself, in whatever form she may have appeared in the 
progress of human history. As exhibited in the master 
states of antiquity, as breaking out again from amidst the 
darkness of the Middle Ages, and beaming on the forma- 
tion of new communities in modern Europe, she has, 
always and every where, charms for me. Yet, Sir, it is 
our own liberty, guarded by constitutions and secured by 

union, it is that liberty which is our paternal inheritance, 
60 



474, ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

it is our established, dear-bought, peculiar American 
liberty, to which I am chiefly devoted, and the cause of 
which I now mean, to the utmost of my power, to main- 
tain and defend." 

The peroration, containing those " words of solemn 
warning," will be remembered by every friend of the 
Union and the Constitution, while our country stands 
united under one free and happy government. 

" Mr. President, if the friends of nullification should be 
able to propagate their opinions, and give them practical 
effect, they would, in my judgment, prove themselves the 
most skillful ' architects of ruin,' the most effectual ex- 
tinguishers of high-raised expectation, the greatest blast- 
ers of human hopes, that any age has produced. They 
would stand up to proclaim, in tones which would pierce 
the ears of half the human race, that the last great experi- 
ment of representative government had failed. They 
would send forth sounds, at the hearing of which the doc- 
trine of the divine right of kings would feel, even in its 
grave, a returning sensation of vitality and resuscitation. 
Millions of eyes of those who now feed their inherent 
love of liberty on the success of the American example, 
would turn away from beholding our dismemberment, and 
find no place on earth whereon to rest their gratified sight. 
Amidst the incantations and orgies of nullification, seces- 
sion, disunion, and revolution, would be celebrated the 
funeral rites of constitutional and republican liberty. 

" But, Sir, if the government do its duty, if it act with 
firmness and with moderation, these opinions can not 
prevail. Be assured, Sir, be assured, that, among the 
political sentiments of this people, the love of union is 
still uppermost. They will stand fast by the Constitution, 
and by those who defend it. I rely on no temporary expe- 
dients, on no political combination; but I rely on the true 
American feeling, the genuine patriotism of the people, 



DANIEL WEBSTER 475 

and the imperative decision of the public voice. Disorder 
and confusion, indeed, may arise; scenes of commotion 
and contest are threatened, and perhaps may come. . With 
my whole heart, I pray for the continuance of the domestic 
peace and quiet of the country. I desire, most ardently, 
the restoration of affection and harmony to all its parts. 
I desire that every citizen of the whole country may look 
to this government with no other sentiments than those of 
grateful respect and attachment. But I can not yield even 
to kind feelings the cause of the Constitution, the true 
glory of the country, and the great trust which we hold in 
our hands for succeeding ages. If the Constitution can 
not be maintained without meeting these scenes of com- 
motion and contest, however unwelcome, they must come. 
We can not, we must not, we dare not, omit to do lhat 
which, in our judgment, the safety of the Union requires. 
Not regardless of consequences, we must yet meet conse- 
quences; seeing the hazards which surround the discharge 
of public duty, it must yet be discharged. For myself, 
Sir, I shun no responsibility justly devolving on me, here 
or elsewhere, in attempting to maintain the cause. I am 
bound to it by indissoluble ties of affection and duty, and 
I shall cheerfully partake in its fortunes and its fate. I 
am ready to perform my own appropriate part, whenever 
and wherever the occasion may call on me, and to take 
my chance among those upon whom blows may fall first 
and fall thickest. I shall' exert every faculty I possess in 
aiding to prevent the Constitution from being nullified, 
destroyed, or impaired; and even should I see it fall, 1 
will still, with a voice feeble, perhaps, but earnest as ever 
issued from human lips, and with fidelity and zeal which 
nothing shall extinguish, call on the PEOPLE to come to 
its rescue." 

Mr. Webster concluded his speech in a deep, thrilling 
tone. The effect was electric. Scarcely had the last 



476 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

charming sound of the orator's voice died away, when a 
tremendous burst of applause from the galleries, testified 
that the People were with him — that they approved what 
he said — that they were ready to maintain the Constitu- 
tion to the last. 

" The thronged Senate-chamber, while it listened to the 
deep tones of the speaker, as in his most impressive man- 
ner he pronounced this eloquent admonition, surged like 
the sea. You saw the undulating motion of the crowd, 
leaning forward to catch each word as it fell, and forced 
back to its original position. It was late in the evening 
when, the orator got through his speech. The emotions of 
the multitude, w T hich had been repressed during the day 
did not hesitate to find articulate and forcible expression 
under the protecting shadows of the night; and hardly 
had the speaker concluded his remarks, before the galle- 
ries, rising to a man, gave a hearty, vociferous cheer, for 
' Daniel Webster, the defender of the Constitution.' " 

The next great subject that enlisted the attention of Mr. 
Webster was the Bank controversy. On the 18th of Sep- 
tember, 1833, the removal of the public deposits from the 
Bank of the United States was effected by the order of 
President Jackson. This step, as all know, proved most 
disastrous to the business of the country. When Congress 
met, about two months after this removal had taken place, 
Mr. Clay introduced a resolution, which passed the Sen- 
ate (March 28th, 1834), censuring the President for assum- 
ing pow T er not warranted by the Constitution. On the 
17th of April, Gen. Jackson communicated to the Senate 
his memorable Protest against this resolution. This drew 
from Mr. Webster, on the 7th of May, an argument of 
great beauty, power, and compass. 

"This speech," says Mr. Everett, " will be ever memo- 
rable for that sublime passage on the extent of the power 
of England, which will be quoted with admiration wher- 



DANIEL WEBSTER 477 

ever our language is spoken,, and while England retains 
her place in the family of nations." 

Regarding the act of the President as an inroad upon 
the Constitution, and dangerous to the liberties of the 
country, Mr. Webster asserted, in his speech, that every 
encroachment, great or small, is important enough to 
awaken the attention of those who are intrusted with the 
preservation of a constitutional government. While ad- 
verting to the great principles of civil liberty, and to the 
resistance made by the Revolutionary patriots to the asser- 
tion of the right of the British Parliament to tax them, he 
gave utterance to some of the most beautiful and lofty 
sentences he ever produced: 

" We are not to wait till great public mischiefs come, 
till the government is overthrown, or liberty itself put 
into extreme jeopardy. We should not be worthy sons of 
our fathers were we so to regard great questions affecting the 
general freedom. Those fathers accomplished the Revo- 
lution on a strict question of principle. The Parliament 
of Great Britain asserted a right to tax the Colonies in all 
cases whatsoever; and it was precisely on this question 
that they made the Revolution turn. The amount of 
taxation was trifling, but the claim itself was inconsistent 
with liberty; and that was, in their eyes, enough. It was 
against the recital of an act of Parliament, rather than 
against any suffering under its enactments, that they took 
up arms. They went to war against a preamble. They 
fought seven years against a declaration. They poured 
out their treasures and their blood like water in a contest 
against an assertion which those less sagacious and not 
so well schooled in the principles of civil liberty would 
have regarded as barren phraseology, or mere parade of 
words. They saw in the claim of the British Parliament 
a seminal principle of mischief, the germ of unjust power* 
they detected it, dragged it forth from underneath its 



478 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

plausible disguises, struck at it; nor did it elude either 
their steady eye or their well-directed blow till they had 
extirpated and destroyed it, to the smallest fibre. On this 
question of principle, while actual suffering was yet afar off, 
they raised their flag against a power, to which, for purposes 
of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height 
of her glory, is not to be compared; a power which has dotted 
over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and 
military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun, 
and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with 
one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of 
England.'''' 

This speech was received with the warmest commenda- 
tion throughout the Union. Chancellor Kent, in a letter 
to Mr. Webster, written a few days after the speech was 
delivered, said " You never equaled this effort. It sur- 
passes every thing in logic, in simplicity and beauty, and 
energy of diction; in clearness, in rebuke, in sarcasm, in 
patriotic and glowing feeling, in just and profound consti- 
tutional views, in critical severity, and matchless strength. 
It is worth millions to our liberties." 

On the election of General Harrison to the presidency, 
in 1840, Mr. Webster was appointed Secretary of State. In 
1842, he negotiated a treaty with Lord Ashburton, which 
settled the question of the northeastern boundary, and put 
an end to a long dispute with England. This was one of 
the most praiseworthy acts of Mr. Webster's life — one for 
which his name deserves to be held in lasting remem- 
brance by a grateful people. Shortly after this honorable 
adjustment of national difficulties, Mr. Webster resigned 
the office of Secretary of State under President Tyler, and 
remained in private life during the residue of the Admin- 
istration. 

In 1843, when the completion of the Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment was to bf :<elebrated in an imposing manner, Mr. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 479 

Webster was invited to deliver an oration on the joyous 
anniversary. He consented; and on the 17th of June, 
gave utterance to his patriotic sentiments in a noble strain 
of fervid eloquence which thrilled the heart of his vast 
audience. It was an occasion of the highest interest. 
The proudest monument of the land had just been fin- 
ished; and the greatest orator of the nation was to display 
his eloquence on a spot moistened by the blood of free- 
men, and ever dear to American hearts. The day was 
clear, cool, and delightful. An immense procession moved 
from Boston to the battle-ground. Mr. Webster stood 
upon an elevated platform in the open air; above him 
stretched a clear, blue, smiling sky; beneath him was the 
sacred ground which had been stained with the blood of 
the Revolutionary patriots; and before him was a sea of 
upturned faces, with the glorious monument towering 
towards heaven. 

It was estimated that a hundred thousand persons were 
present. Among this immense multitude were one hund- 
red and eight surviving veterans of the Revolution, some 
of whom had been in the hard-fought battle of Bunker 
Hill. " The ground rises slightly between the platform 
and the Monument Square, so that the whole of this 
immense concourse, compactly crowded together, breath- 
less with attention, swayed by one sentiment of admiration 
and delight, was within the full view of the speaker. The 
position and the occasion were the height of the moral 
sublime." 

Mr. Webster rose and said: — "A duty has been per- 
formed. A work of gratitude and patriotism is completed. 
This structure, having its foundations in soil which drank 
deep of early Revolutionary blood, has at length reached 
its destined height, and now lifts its summit to the skies." 

" The Bunker Hill Monument is finished. Here it 
stands. Fortuna '.?, in the high natural eminence in which 



4 SO ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

it is placed, higher, infinitely higher in its objects and 
purpose, it rises over the land and over the sea; and, visi- 
ble, at their homes, to three hundred thousand of the 
people of Massachusetts, it stands a memorial of the last, 
and a monitor to the present and to all succeeding gene- 
rations. I have spoken of the loftiness of its purpose. If 
it had been without any other design than the creation of 
a work of art, the granite of which it is composed would 
have slept in its native bed. It has a purpose, and that 
purpose gives it its character. That purpose enrobes it 
with dignity and moral grandeur. That well-known pur- 
pose it is which causes us to look up to it with a feeling 
of awe. It is itself the orator of this occasion. It is not 
from my lips, it could not be from any human lips, that 
that strain of eloquence is this day to flow most competent 
to move and excite the vast multitudes around me. Tho 
powerful speaker stands motionless before us.* It is a 
plain shaft. It bears no inscriptions, fronting to the rising 
sun, from which the future antiquary shall wipe the 61ust. 
Nor does the rising sun cause tones of music to issue from 
its summit. But at the rising of the sun, and at the setting 
of the sun; in the blaze of noonday, and beneath the 
milder effulgence of lunar light; it looks, it speaks, it acts, 

* u When, after saying, 'It is not from my lips, it could not be from any 
human lips, that that strain of eloquence is this day to flow most competent to 
move and excite the vast multitude around me, — the powerful speaker stands 
motionless before us,' he paused, and pointed in silent admiration to the sub- 
lime structure, the audience burst into long and loud applause. It was some 
moments before the speaker could go on with the address." 

"The thrill of admiration," says Mr. Everett, "which ran through the assem- 
bled thousands, when, at the commencement of his discourse on that occasion, 
Mr. Webster apostrophized the monument itself as the mute orator of the day, 
has been spoken of by those who had the good fortune to be present as an emo- 
tion beyond the power of language to describe. The gesture, the look, the 
tone of the speaker, as he turned to the majestic shaft, seemed to invest it with 
a mysterious life; and men held their breath as if a solemn voice was about to 
come down from its towering summit." 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 4S1 

to the full comprehension of every American mind, and 
the awakening of glowing enthusiasm in every American 
heart. Its silent, but awful utterance; its deep pathos, as 
it brings to our contemplation the 17th of June, 1775, and 
the consequences which have resulted to us, to our coun- 
try, and to the world, from the events of that day, and 
which we know must continue to rain influence on the 
destinies of mankind to the end of time; the elevation 
with, which it raises ns high above the ordinary feeling of 
life, surpass all that the study of the closet, or even the 
inspiration of genius, can produce. To-day it speaks to 
us. Its future auditories will be the successive genera- 
tions of men, as they rise up before it and gather around 
it. Its speech will be of patriotism and courage; of civil 
and religious liberty; of free government; of the moral 
improvement and elevation of mankind; and of the im- 
mortal memory of those who, with heroic devotion, have 
sacrificed their lives for their country."* 

* It will be interesting to read, in connection with Mr. Webster's oration, 
the thrilling speech of Kossuth on Bunker Hill. What can be more beautiful 
or vehement in language than the following passage from the address of the 
noble Hungarian: 

" My voice shrinks from the task to mingle with the awful pathos of that 
majestic orator! [Pointing to the monument.] Silent like the grave, and yet 
melodious like the song of immortality upon the lips of cherubim, — a sense- 
less, cold granite, and yet warm with inspiration like a patriot's heart, — im- 
movable like the past, and yet stirring like the future, which never stops, — 
it looks like a prophet, and speaks like an oracle. And thus it speaks: 

u ' The day I commemorate is the rod with which the hand of the Lord has 
opened the well of liberty. Its waters will flow; every new drop of martyr 
blood will increase the tide. Despots may dam its flood, but never stop it. 
The higher its dam, the higher the tide; it will overflow, or break through. 
Bow, and adore, and hope!' 

"Such are the words which come to my ears; and I bow, I adore, I hope! 
' In bowing, my eyes meet the soil of Bunker Hill, — that awful opening 
scene of the eventful drama to which Lexington and Concord had been the pre- 
face: 

* The spirits of the past rise belore my eyes. I see Richard Gridley hastily 

61 



482 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

Ill 1845, Mr. Webster again took his seat in the Senate 
of the United States, as successor to Hon. Rufus Choate.* 
When Mr. Fillmore succeeded to the presidency, on the 
death of Gen. Taylor, in July, 1850, Mr. Webster was again 
appointed Secretary of State, and in this department he 
remained until his death. 

Among the last oratorical efforts which Mr. Webster made 
in the Senate of the United States, was his great speech 
for the Constitution and the Union, delivered in the pre- 
sence of an immense audience, on the 7th of March, 1850. 
His closing sentences in this speech are so exquisitely 
finished, and contain such a glowing representation of na- 
tional glory, that they deserve to be quoted here. 

Speaking of the high trusts which devolve on the present 
generation of our countrymen, for the preservation of the 

planning the intrenchments. I hear the dull, cold, blunt sound of the pick- 
axe and spade in the hands of the patriot band. I hear the patrols say that 
u all is well." I see Knovvlton raising his line of rail fence, upon which soon 
the guns will rest, that the bullets may prove to their message true. I see 
the tall, commanding form of Prescott marching leisurely around the parapet, 
inflaming the tired patriots with the classical words that those who had the 
merit of the labor should have the honor of the victory. I see Asa Pollard fall, 
thefirsi victim of that immortal day; I see the chaplain praying over him; and 
now the roaring of cannon from ships ana from batteries, and the blaze of the 
burning town, and the thrice-renewed storm, and the persevering defense, till 
powder was gone, and but atones remained. And I see Warren telling 
Elbridge Gerry that it is sweet and fair to die for the father-land. I see him 
lingering in his retreat, and, struck in the forehead, fall to the ground; and 
Pomeroy, with his shattered musket in his brave hand, complaining that he 

* Rufus Choate, who has been admirably styled the Erskine of America, and 
who is one of the brightest ornaments of the American bar. was born in Essex 
county, Massachusetts, on the 1st of October, 1799. At school he was early 
noted for his extraordinary powers of memory, and close application to study 
He graduated at Dartmouth College in 1819. He commenced the study of law 
in the Dane Law School, at Cambridge, and afterwards entered the office of the 
celebrated William Wirt, at Washington. In 1830, Mr. Choate was elected to 
the senate of his native state. In 1832, he was chosen as a representative to 
Congres' s^.d in 1842, he was elected to the Senate of the Union. This sta- 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 483 

constitution, and of the vast extent of the American Re- 
public, he said: " Never did there devolve on any generation 
of men higher trusts than now devolve upon us, for the 
preservation of this constitution and the harmony and 
peace of all who are destined to live under it. Let us make 
our generation one of the strongest and brightest links in 
that golden chain which is destined, I fondly believe, to 
grapple the people of all the states to this constitution for 
ages to corns. We have a great, popular, constitutional 
government, guarded by law and by judicature, and de- 
fended by the affections of the whole people. No monar- 
chical throne presses these states together, no iron chain of 
military power encircles them; they live and stand under 
a government popular in its form, representative in its 
character, founded upon principles of equality, and so con- 
structed, we hope, as to last for ever. In all its history it 



remained unhurt, when Warren had to die; and I see all the brave who fell 
unnamed, unnjticed and unknown, the nameless corner-stones of American in- 
dependence! 1 " 

Kossuth possesses, in an eminent decree, those oratorical qualities which 
are essential to great success in public speaking — those powers by which a 
speaker is enabled to sweep the chords of human feeling. And, what effect has 
been produced by the delivery of his public speeches, the world knows. While 
addressing large assemblies, he has been listened to with breathless attention. 

" Reporters have been too excited to proceed accurately with their notes, and 
a glow of mysterious delight, like an atmosphere, has pervaded the hall through 
which floated his melodious tones. In England, men who have heard the elo- 
quence of parliament for half a century, and could listen motionless to advo 
cates whose fame is wide as the empire, while making juries weep, have felt 
their pulses leap to the sound of his voice. They describe his eloquence as 
' Shaksperean,' ' Miltonian.' and ' most thrilling.' " 

tion he resigned in 1845, and was succeeded by Mr. Webster as above stated. 
Like Lord Erskine, he is in his element while pleading at the bar. The forum 
is the grand theater of his glory. The Law Reporter remarks on his character 
as an orator: ,; He is certainly one of the most gifted orators of New England. 
A brilliant intellect, which has been developed by exact and laborious study, a 
wonderful power of discrimination and abstraction, an exuberant flow of Ian- 



484 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

has been beneficent: it has trodden down no man's liberty, 
it has crushed no state. Its daily respiration is liberty and 
patriotism; its yet youthful veins are full of enterprise, 
courage, and honorable love of glory and renown. Large 
before, the country has now, by recent events, become vastly 
larger. This republic now extends, with a vast breadth, 
across the whole continent. The two great seas of the 
world wash the one and the other shore. We realize, on 
a mighty scale, the beautiful description of the ornamental 
border of the buckle of Achilles: 

' Now, the broad shield complete, the artist crowned 
With his last hand, and poured the ocean round; 
In living silver seemed the waves to roll, 
And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole.' " 

At the grand ceremonial of the laying of the corner- 
stone of the addition to the Capitol, on the 4th of July, 

guage, a sparkling wit, a lively fancy, and an overwhelming enthusiasm, ena- 
ble him to control almost any audience, and entitle him to the name of the 
American Erskine " Ci While pleading, his eye flashes, as it tarns rapidly 
from the court to the jury, and the jury to the court. Ever remarking, with 
intuitive sagacity, the slightest traces of emotion or thought in the eye, lip, 
face, position or movement, of the judge — ever reading the soul revealed to 
him," as one graphically sketches, " perhaps to him alone, and comprehended 
by that mysterious sympathy which unites the orator and auditor, as by an 
electric atmosphere, through which thoughts anu feelings pass and repass in 
silence, but in power, Choate is aware, with the certainty of genius and the 
rapidity of instinct, of the effect he has produced upon the judge, whose slightest 
word, he knows, is weightier than the eloquence of counsel; and, at the first 
slight intimation of dissent, rapidly, but almost imperceptibly, modifies, limits 
and explains, his idea, until he feels the concert of mental sympathy between 
mind and mind; and then, like a steed checked into noble action, or a river 
raising to burst over its barriers, with his mind elevated and excited by oppo- 
sition, he discourses to the jury logic, eloquence and poetry, in tones that linger 
in the memory like the parting sound of a cathedral bell, or the dying note of 
an organ. His voice is deep, musical, sad. Thrilling it can be as a fife, but 
it has often a plaintive cadence, as though his soul mourned, amid the loud and 
angry tumults of the forum, for the quiet grove of the academy, or in these 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 485 

1851, Mr. Webster delivered the last of his most eloquent, 
patriotic addresses. It was one of the noblest of his 
oratorical efforts — a magnificent burst of the highest elo- 
quence. Passages of great beauty occur in this speech, 
which, to adopt the words of one of the most accomplished 
living orators of our country, " will be read with admi- 
ration as long as the Capitol itself shall last." " The 
allusion and apostrophe to Washington," says Mr. Everett, 
" will be rehearsed by the generous youth of America as 
long as the English language is spoken on this side of the 
Atlantic ocean." It was natural that the orator should 
refer on such an occasion as this to the illustrious Father 
of his country, who in 1793 had laid the corner-stone of 
the original Capitol. In the following lines we have the 
beautiful allusion and apostrophe: 

" Fellow-citizens, what contemplations are awakened in 
our minds as we assemble here to reenact a scene like that 
performed by Washington! Methinks I see his venerable 
form now before me, as presented in the glorious statue by 
Houdon, now in the Capitol of Virginia. He is dignified 

evil times sighed at the thought of those charms and virtues which we dare 
conceive in boyhood, and pursue as men, the unreached paradise of our despair." 
In a work entitled the " Statesmen of America in 1846," we have a 
beautiful allusion to a memorable forensic effort of Mr. Choate. The author 
says: " I have no words to describe the extraordinary effort of this remarkable 
man. The fluency, rapidity and beauty of his language, his earnest manner, 
his excited action, and his whole being, conflicting with the most intense 
emotion-, he was all nerve, each sense, each faculty was absorbed in the great 
duty of the day : and sometimes it seemed that tears alone could relieve the 
uncontrollable agitation which thrilled through his frame, and quivered on his 
lip, and trembled in his voice; the strong nerve of a man alone enabled him to 
command his struggling feelings; for an instant he paused, and then again 
gushed forth his words clothed in each form of argument and persuasion, that 
the reach of mind and knowledge can suggest or use. His memory supplied 
quotations, learned and to the point; his imagination called each poetic fancy 
quick to his aid; and his voice of music attuned itself to all the varied tones of 
his discourse, awakening in every breast the sentiments and impressions of his 
own. He is the Proteus of eloquence." 



486 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

and grave; but concern and anxiety seem to soilen the 
lineaments of his countenance. The government over 
which he presides is yet in the crisis of experiment. Not 
free from troubles at home, he sees the world in commotion 
and in arms all around him. He sees that imposing foreign 
powers are half disposed to try the strength of the recently 
established American government. We perceive that mighty 
thoughts, mingled with fears as well as with hopes, are 
struggling within him. He heads a short procession over 
these then naked fields; he crosses yonder stream on a 
fallen tree: he ascends to the top of this eminence, whose 
original oaks of the forest stand as thick around him as if 
the spot had been devoted to Druidical worship, and here 
he performs the appointed duty of the day. 

" And now, fellow-citizens, if this vision were a reality; 
if Washington actually were now amongst us, and if he 
could draw around him the shades of the great public men 
of his own day, patriots and warriors, orators and states- 
men, and were to address us in their presence, would he 
not say to us: ' Ye men of this generation, I rejoice and 
thank God for being able to see that our labors and toils 
and sacrifices were not in vain. You are prosperous, you 
are happy, you are grateful; the fire of liberty burns brightly 
and steadily in your hearts, while duty and the law restrain 
it from bursting forth in wild and destructive conflagration. 
Cherish liberty, as you love it; cherish its securities, as you 
wish to preserve it. Maintain the Constitution which we 
labored so painfully to establish, and which has been to you 
such a source of inestimable blessings. Preserve the union 
of the States, cemented as it was by our prayers, our 
tears, and our blood. Be true to God, to your country, 
and to your duty. So shall the whole eastern world 
follow the morning sun to contemplate you as a nation; 
so shall all generations honor you, as they honor us; 
and so shall that Almighty Power which so graciously 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 487 

protected us, and which now protects you, shower its ever- 
lasting blessings upon you and your posterity.' 

' Great Father of your Country! we heed your words; 
we feel their force as if you now uttered them with lips of 
flesh and blood. Your example teaches us, your affectionate 
addresses teach us, your public life teaches us, your sense 
of the value of the blessings of the Union. Those blessings 
our fathers have tasted, and we have tasted, and still taste. 
Nor do we intend that those wiio come after us shall be 
denied the same high fruition. Our honor as well as our 
happiness is concerned. We can not, we dare not, we will 
not, betray our sacred trust. We will not filch from pos- 
terity the treasure placed in our hands to be transmitted to 
other generations. The bow that gilds the clouds in the 
heavens, the pillars that uphold the firmament, may dis- 
appear and fall away in the hour appointed by the w r ill of 
God; but until that day comes, or so long as our lives may 
last, no ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of 
Union and Liberty which spans the continent from Wash- 
ington to California." 

Thus, we have presented the general outlines of Mr. 
Webster's public career, with the best specimens of his 
oratory. We must now bring this sketch to a close. 

The decease of Mr. Webster took place at his residence 
in Marshfield, on the quiet sabbath morning of the 24th 
of October, 1852. When the mournful tidings were an- 
nounced, the heart of the American people w r as touched 
with the deepest sorrow. All mourned the departure of 
one, who, for real mental muscle was regarded as towering 
above all other men of the age. The great statesman 
calmly breathed his life away, uttering, as the icy hand of 
death was sealing his lips forever, those animating words 
"I still live" How well did such language express his 
immortality. The mighty mind of Webster stLl lives, 



488 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

although that once noble form which it inhabited now lies 
mouldering amidst the clods of the valley 

" Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
But that which warmed it once can never die." 

On the 29th of October, in the presence of a vast assem • 
bly of mourners, the remains of Daniel Webster were con- 
signed to the grave. " His resting-place is where it should 
be: in the fields which he has tilled; near the haunts alike 
of his hours of sublime contemplation, and his brighter 
and more genial moods; within sight of the window from 
which he looked, in the pauses of his study, upon the 
white tomb-stones which he had placed over his family — 
all but one gone before ! 

" Iz is all over! The last. struggle is past; the struggle, 
the strife, the anxiety, the pain, the turmoil of life is over: 
the tale is told, and finished, and ended. It is told and 
done; and the seal of death is set upon it. Henceforth 
that great life, marked at every step; chronicled in jour- 
nals; waited on by crowds; told to the whole country by 
telegraphic tongues of flame — that great life shall bo but 
a history, a biography, ' a tale told in an evening tent.' In 
the tents of life it shall long be recited; but no word shall 
reach the ear of that dead sleeper by the ocean shore. 
Fitly will he rest there. Like the granite rock, like the 
heaving ocean, was his mind! Let the rock guard his 
rest: let the ocean sound his dirge!" 

A critic, already quoted, in describing the character of 
Mr. Webster's eloquence several years before his decease, 
says: "In him we behold a raind of great native vigor; 
early roused to energy by the very necessities of his early 
origin; — disciplined to habits of severe thought by the 
laborious study of law; — trained in all the arts of intel- 
lectual warfare on the hard arena of forensic strife; and 
finally expanded to its present mighty range of eloquence, 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 489 

philosophy, and statesmanship, on the broad and stirring 
theater of the public councils. Those who have heard 
Mr. Webster, are well aware that he owes a portion of his 
power to personal advantages. The lofty brow, the dark 
and cavernous eye, and the heavy, deep-toned voice, might 
alone enchant a gazing auditory. These impart to 
his calmer and ordinary discourse, a serious earnestness, 
and a senatorial dignity; but in moments of high excite- 
ment, by no means of frequent occurrence, they seem like 
the blackness, and fire, and rolling peals of the o'ercharged 
and bursting cloud. 

" His style is remarkable for its simplicity. To utter 
thoughts of the highest order, in language perfectly sim- 
ple; by lucid arrangement and apt words, to make abstract 
isoning, and the most recondite principles of commerce, 
tics, and law, plain to the humblest capacity, is a 
^ge and power in which Mr. Webster is equaled, pro- 
by no living man. This simplicity, which is thought 
~>f attainment, is, nevertheless, in this as in most 
loubtedly the result of uncommon care. Like 
thenian orator, Mr. Webster is always full of 
Like him, too, he can adorn where ornament 
and kindle, when occasion calls, into the 
^athos, or loftiest sublime. 
lan, Mr. Webster is eminently American. 
Hi he the purest spirit of a broad and gen- 

eroi "he institutions of learning and liberty 

whici to greatness, it has been his filial 

pride I anly privilege to defend, if not to 

save. 

" In no .mergency, on no occasion, where he has yet 
been tried, have the high expectations formed of his abili- 
ties, been doomed to disappointment. The time-honored 
rock of the Pilgrims; Bunker's glorious mound; and old 
FaneuilHall; have been rendered even more illustrious 



490 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 

by his eloquent voice. Armed at all points, <ind ready 
alike for attack and defense, he has been found equally 
gieat, whether wrestling with champions of the law, be- 
fore its most august tribunal, or contending on the 
broader field, and in the hotter conflicts of Congressional 
warfare." 

" The oratory of Webster will go down to posterity with 
applause. In the monumental column of the world's elo- 
quence, formed by the contributions to the illustrious of all 
ages, the name of the Massachusetts Senator will appear 
with those of Demosthenes, and Cicero, and Burke, and 
Fox, and Patrick Henry, and Clay; and if any stones in 
the column have a brighter polish, or more external 
beauty, not Grecian marble itself will attract more eyes 
than the enduring g anite, inscribed w T ith Webster." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



EDWAED EVEEETT. 

Edward Everett was born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, 
on the 11th of April, 1794. He was a son of the Rev. 
Oliver Everett, a clergyman of Boston. At the public 
schools of Dorchester and Boston, young Everett began his 
education. His preparation for college was completed 
in the Phillips Academy at Exeter, New Hampshire, under 
the instruction of the venerable Dr. Benjamin Abbott, the 
preceptor of Daniel Webster. 

At a public festival at Exeter, in 1838, in honor of Dr. 
Abbott, who had been principal of the Academy for fifty 
years, Mr. Everett, in his remarks alludes, in a beautiful 
and touching manner, to the scenes of his schoolboy days 
— those days which he passed so pleasantly and so profita- 
bly within the walls of the Exeter Academy: 

"It was my good fortune," said he, "to pass here but a por- 
tion of the year before I entered college; but I can truly 
say that even in that short time I contracted a debt of 
gratitude, which I have felt throughout my life. I return 
to these endeared scenes with mingled emotion. I find 
them changed; dwelling-places are no more on the same 
spots; old edifices have disappeared; new ones, both pub- 
lic and private, have been erected. Some of the respected 
heads of society whom I knew, though as a child, are 
gone. The seats in the Academy-room are otherwise 
arranged than formerly, and even there the places that 
once knew me know me no more. Where the objects 



492 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

themselves are unaltered, the changed eye and the changed 
mind see them differently. The streets seem narrower and 
shorter, the distances less considerable; this play -ground 
before us, which I remember as most spacious, seems sadly 
contracted. But all, sir. is not changed, either in appear- 
ance or reality. The countenance of our reverend pre- 
ceptor has undergone no change to my eye. It still ex- 
presses that suaviter in modo mentioned by the gentleman 
last up (Rev. Professor Ware, Jun.), with nothing of the 
sternness of the other principle. It is thus I remember it; 
it was always sunshine to me. Nature, in the larger fea- 
tures of the landscape, is unchanged; the river still flows, 
the woods yield their shade as pleasantly as they did thirty 
years ago, doubly grateful for 'he contrast they afford to 
the dusty walks of active life; for the solace they yield in 
an escape, however brief, from its burdens and cares. As 
I stood in the hall of the Academy, last evening, and saw 
from its windows the river winding through the valley, 
and the gentle slope rising from its opposite bank, and 
caught the cool breeze that w T as scattering freshness after 
the sultry summer's day, I could feel the poetry of Gray, 
on revisiting, in a like manner, the scenes of his school- 
boy days — 

' Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! 

Ah, fields beloved in vain ! 
Where once my careless childhood strayed, 

A stranger yet to pain ! 
I feel the gales that from ye blow 
A momentary bliss below, 

As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
And, redolent of joy and youth, 
To breathe a second spring.' " 

In August, 1807, Mr. Everett, then in the fourteenth 
year of his age, entered Harvard University. He was the 
youngest member of his class; but his genius soon began 



EDWARD EVERETT. 493 

to appear to the delight and admiration of his fellow- 
students and teachers. After a college course of four years, 
he graduated in IS 11, with the highest honors of his class. 
In the following year he was appointed Latin tutor in the 
University. 

Mr. Everett was early distinguished for his poetical 
talents. It was during this period that he composed and 
delivered a poem for the Phi Beta Kappa Society, on the 
American Poets — a production which did him honor. 

While a tutor in college, Mr. Everett applied himself to 
the study of theology under the instruction of the Rev. J. 
S. Buckminster, and President Kirkland. So rapidly and 
thoroughly did he master his theological studies, that he 
was called to the ministry before he had attained his nine- 
teenth year; and, in 1813, he became the successor of Mr 
Buckminster, over the Brattle Street church in Boston. 

Mr. Everett was one of the most popular and eloquent 
young clergymen that ever commenced a ministerial 
career. Whenever he preached, large assemblies gathered 
around him. There was a fascination about his pulpit 
oratory which carried away his audience in admiration 
and astonishment. His discourses were heard in breath - 
less silence. So pure, classical, and soul stirring was the 
stream of his eloquence that his discourses may be said to 
resemble " a deep and beautiful river, passing with calm 
but irresistible majesty through rich and varied scenery; 
now gliding around the base of some lofty mountain, then 
sweeping through meadows and cornfields, anon reflecting 
in their placid bosom some old castle, or vine covered hill, 
taking villages and cities in their course, and bearing the 
commerce and population of the neighboring countries on 
their deepening and expanding tide." 

The pulpit discourses of Mr. Everett were distinguished 
for their beauty of conception, splendor of diction and 
felicity of execution. They were the productions of a 



494 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

well disciplined mind, familiar with ancient classical lit- 
erature. But he drew his loftiest strain of pulpit elo- 
quence from the pages of inspiration 

In the spring of 1815, before he had attained the age of 
twenty-one years, Mr. Everett was chosen professor of Greek 
Literature in Harvard University. Before commencing his 
new and arduous duties at Cambridge, he was permitted, 
for the improvement of his health and for his proficiency 
in ancient and modern literature, to visit Europe and to 
remain for some time in the principal universities of the 
old world He immediately embarked at Boston for Liver- 
pool. Shortly after his arrival at Liverpool he repaired to 
London, where he remained till" after the battle of Waterloo 
From England he proceeded to Germany. The principal 
object of his visit to that country was to acquire a know- 
ledge of German literature. To accomplish this, he spent 
more than two years at the University of Gottingen, where, 
applying himself closely to study, he gained a knowledge 
of the German language, and of other studies appropriate 
to his professorship. He also became familiar with the 
mode of instruction adopted in the universities of Germany. 
While in Germany, Mr. Everett became acquainted with 
some of the most distinguished literary and scientific men 
of the day, such as Goethe, Gauss, Heeren, Wolf, Hermann, 
and Hugo. 

The winter of 1817-18, Mr. Everett spent in Paris, de- 
voting the principal portion of his time to the study of 
Italian and modern Greek. Here he enjoyed the society 
of General Lafayette and many other eminent men. In the 
spring of 1818, he returned to England, spent some time at 
the universities of Cambridge and Oxford,- visited Scotland; 
passed a few days with Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, and 
with Dugald Stewart. In England, as well as in Germany 
and France, he became intimately acquainted with many 
of the most eminent political and literary men, including 



EDWARD EVERETT. 495 

Sir James Mackintosh, Lord Jeffrey, Campbell, Lord Hol- 
land, Sir Samuel Romilly, Sir Humphrey Davy, and Lord 
Byron. 

In the autumn of IS 18, Mr. Everett visited Switzerland 
and Italy. He spent most of the winter of 1818-19 in 
Rome, Florence and Naples. His time there was pleasantly 
passed in antiquarian research, and in the society of illus- 
trious men. In the spring of 1819, he set out for the shores 
of Greece. He passed by Pharsalia, Thermopylae, Delphi 
and Thebes, on his way to Athens. Perhaps the most plea- 
sant part of his visit to Europe was the few weeks which 
he spent at Athens. After visiting the plain of Troy and 
Constantinople, he returned to London, took passage for 
America in September, 1819, and safely reached his native 
country, after an absence of about four years and seven 
months. He returned to his countrymen, like Cicero from 
his Grecian and Asiatic tour, W'ith his mind stored with 
knowledge. He immediately entered upon the duties of 
his professorship at Cambridge, and also became the editor 
of the North American Review. About this time he de- 
livered an admirable course of lectures to the students of 
Harvard University, on Greek literature, containing an 
account of the life and writings of every Greek classic 
author of note from the earliest period to the Byzantine 
age. It is to be hoped that these lectures may yet be given 
to the world in a permanent form. They will doubtless be 
a noble contribution to literature. 

The fame of Mr. Everett as an orator was early estab- 
lished. On the 26th of August, 1826, he pronounced the 
first of his most brilliant orations at Cambridge, before the 
Society of Phi Beta Kappa, on The Circumstances Favorable 
to the Progress of Literature in America. 

This speech called forth universal praise. It was an 
amazing effort for a young man of thirty years, and at 
once established his reputation as one of the most accom- 



496 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

plislied orators of his country. The peroration, which 
contains a beautiful apostrophe to General Lafayette, 
whose presence graced the occasion, thrilled the heart of 
the immense audience, and was responded to by loud and 
protracted cheers. A more noble conclusion to an ora- 
tion of this kind was, perhaps, never made. It was 
moulded in classic beauty, and pronounced with over- 
whelming force: 

" Meantime," said the orator, " the years are rapidly 
passing away, and gathering importance in their course. 
With the present year [1824J will be completed the half 
century from that most important era in human history — 
the commencement of our revolutionary war. The jubilee 
of our national existence is at hand. The space of time 
that has elapsed since that momentous date has laid down 
in the dust, which the blood of many of them had al- 
ready hallowed, most of the great men to whom, under 
Providence, we owe our national existence and privileges. 
A few still survive among us, to reap the rich fruits of 
their labors and sufferings; and one has yielded himself 
to the united voice of a people, and returned in his age 
to receive the gratitude of the nation to whom he devoted 
his youth. It is recorded on the pages of American his- 
tory, that when this friend of our country applied to our 
commissioners at Paris, in 1776, for a passage in the first 
ship they should despatch to America, they were obliged 
to answer him (so low and abject was then our dear native 
land), that they possessed not the means, nor the credit, 
sufficient for providing a single vessel, in all the ports of 
France. ' Then,' exclaimed the youthful hero, ' I will pro- 
vide my own.' And it is a literal fact that, when all 
America was too poor to offer him so much as a passage 
to her shores, he left, in his tender youth, the bosom of 
home, of domestic happiness, of wealth, of rank, to plunge 
in the dust and blood of our inauspicious struggle. 



EDWARD EVERETT. 497 

" Welcome, Mend of our fathers, to our shores! Happy 
are our eyes, that behold those venerable features! Enjoy 
a triumph such as never conqueror nor monarch enjoyed — 
the assurance that, throughout America, there is not a 
bosom which does not beat with joy and gratitude at the 
sound of your name! You have already met and saluted, 
or will soon meet, the few that remain of the ardent pa- 
triots, prudent counselors, and brave warriors, with whom 
you were associated in achieving our liberty. But you 
have looked round in vain for the faces of many, who 
would have lived years of pleasure, on a day like this, 
with their old companion in arms and brother in peril. 
Lincoln, and Greene, and Knox, and Hamilton, are gone; 
the heroes of Saratoga and Yorktown have fallen before 
the enemy that conquers all. Above all, the first of heroes 
and of men, the friend of your youth, the more than 
friend of his country rests in the bosom of the soil he 
redeemed. On the banks of his Potomac he lies in glory 
and in peace. You will revisit the hospitable shades of 
Mount Vernon, but him, whom you venerated as we did, 
you will not meet at its door. His voice of consolation, 
which reached you in the dungeons of Olmiitz, can not 
now break its silence to bid you welcome to his own roof. 
But the grateful children of America w T ill bid you welcome 
in his name. Welcome! thrice welcome to our shores! 
and whithersoever your course shall take you, throughout 
the limits of the continent, the ear that hears you shall 
bless you., the eye that sees you shall give witness to you, 
and every tongue exclaim, with heartfelt joy, Welcome! 
welcome, La Fayette !" 

On the 22d of December of the same year (1824), Mr. 

Everett delivered an oration at Plymouth upon the First 

Settlement of New England. It was a masterly effort, 

worthy of the occasion, and of him who pronounced it. 

The most beautiful sentiments — thoughts which will 
63 



49 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

never die — abound in this oration. Of this class is the 
allusion to England, the land of our fathers, the home of 
the Pilgrims. The passage is above all praise; its form is 
so graceful; its cadence, so delicious, and its melody, so 
delightful : 

" Who does not feel," said Mr. Everett, " what reflecting 
American does not acknowledge, the incalculable advan- 
tages derived to this land, out of the deep fountains of 
civil, intellectual, and moral truth, from which we have 
drawn in England? What American does not feel proud 
that his fathers were the countrymen of Bacon, of Newton, 
and of Locke? Who does not know that, while every 
pulse of civil liberty in the heart of the British empire 
beat warm and full in the bosom of our ancestors, the so- 
briety, the firmness, and the dignity, with which the cause 
of free principles struggled into existence here, constantly 
found encouragement and countenance from the friends 
of liberty there? Who does not remember that, when the 
Pilgrims went over the sea, the prayers of the faithful 
British confessors, in all the quarters of their dispersion, 
went over with them, while their aching eyes were 
strained, till the star of hope should go up in the western 
skies? And who will ever forget that, in that eventful 
struggle which severed these youthful republics from the 
British crown, there was not heard, throughout our con- 
tinent in arms, a voice which spoke louder for the rights 
of America, than that of Burke, or of Chatham, within 
the walls of the British parliament, and at the foot of the 
British throne? No: for myself I can truly say that, after 
my native land, T feel a tenderness and a reverence for 
that of my lathers. The pride I take in my own country 
makes me respect that from which we are sprung. In 
touching the soil of England, I seem to return, like a de- 
scendant, to the old family seat; to come back to the abode 
of an aged and venerable parent. I acknowledge this 



EDWARD EVERETT. 499 

great consanguinity of nations. The sound of my native 
language, beyond the sea, is a music to my ear, beyond the 
richest strains of Tuscan softness or Castilian majesty. I 
am not yet in a land of strangers, while surrounded by 
the manners, the habits, and the institutions under which 
I have been brought up. I wander, delighted, through a 
thousand scenes, which the historians and the poets have 
made familiar to us; of which the names are interwoven 
with our earliest associations, I tread with reverence the 
spots where I can retrace the footsteps of our suffering 
fathers; the pleasant land of their birth has a claim on 
my heart. It seems to me a classic, yea, a holy land; rich 
in the memory of the great and good, the champions and 
the martyrs of liberty, the exiled heralds of truth; and 
richer, as the parent of this land of promise in the west." 

Near the close of this oration we have another passage 
of uncommon power and beauty, on the suffering and 
perilous condition of the Pilgrim Fathers during their 
voyage across the Atlantic, and after their landing on the 
inhospitable, ice-clad rocks of Plymouth. It is one of 
the finest strokes that the pencil of the orator or the 
man of letters lias ever drawn; and it is an admirable ex- 
emplification of Mr. Everett's highly imaginative faculty. 
Where can we find in the English language — in any lan- 
guage — sentences more graceful than the following? 

" Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous 
vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the 
prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown 
sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, 
the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, 
and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them on 
the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for 
shore. I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, 
crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, 
delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now, 



500 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 

driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their scarcely 
seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howla 
through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining 
from their base; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard; 
the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow; 
the ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the 
floating deck, and beats with deadening weight against 
the staggered vessel. I see them, escaped from these perils, 
pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed 
at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks 
of Plymouth, weak and exhausted from the voyage, poorly 
armed, scantily provisioned, dspending on the charity of 
their shipmaster for a draught of beer on board, drinking 
nothing but water on shore, without shelter, without 
means, surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut now the volume 
of history, and tell me, on any principle of human pro- 
bability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adven- 
turers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many 
months were they all swept oif by the thirty savage tribes 
enumerated within the boundaries of New England? Tell 
me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on 
which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, lan- 
guish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare 
for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the 
abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel 
of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the 
houseless heads of women and children? was it hard labor 
and spare meals? was it disease? was it the tomahawk? 
was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enter- 
prise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments at 
the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea? — 
was it some or all of these united that hurried this forsaken 
company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible that 
neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able 
to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible that from a be- 



EDWARD EVERETT. 501 

ginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so much of ad- 
miration as of pity, there have gone forth a progress so 
steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, a 
promise yet to be fulfilled so glorious?" 

In the autumn of 1825, Mr. Everett was elected to Con- 
gress as the representative of Middlesex, by a handsome 
majority. In December, 1825, he took his seat in Congress 
for the first time. On the expiration of his first term, he 
was reelected by large majorities, for four successive 
terms. His Congressional career was eminently service- 
able to the nation, and honorable to himself. No man 
ever labored with a nobler and truer heart for the aggran- 
dizement of his country than Mr. Everett. No one ever 
cherished a warmer love for the literary institutions of 
our land, or was ever a more earnest advocate of American 
education. The promotion of the prosperity of the whole 
Union was the grand object of his political career. For 
this, he labored with unremitted energy in the halls of 
Congress during ten successive years 

On the 1st of August, 1826, Mr. Everett delivered his 
great Eulogy at Charlestown, in commemoration of John 
Adams and Thomas Jefferson, who expired on the 4th of 
July preceding. It was pronounced in the presence of a 
vast assembly, and listened to with breathless attention. 
This discourse furnishes us with some of the loftiest senti- 
ments that Mr. Everett ever uttered. Take the following 
for an example : 

"The jubilee of America is turned into mourning. Its 
joy is mingled with sadness; its silver trumpet breathes a 
mingled strain. Henceforward, while America exists 
among the nations of the e^rth, the first emotion on the 
fourth of July will be of joy and triumph in the great 
event which immortalizes the day; the second will be one 
of chastened and tender recollection of the venerable 
men, who departed on the morning of the jubilee. This 



502 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

mingled emotion of triumph and sadness has sealed the 
beauty and sublimity of our great anniversary. In the 
simple commemoration of a victorious political achieve- 
ment, there seems not enough to occupy our purest and 
best feelings. The fourth of July was before a day of 
triumph, exultation, and national pride; but the angel of 
death has mingled in the glorious pageant to teach us we 
are men. Had our venerated fathers left us on any other 
day, it would have been henceforward a day of mournful 
recollection. But now, the whole nation feels, as with 
one heart, that since it must sooner or later have been 
bereaved of its revered fathers, it could not have wished 
that any other had been the day of their decease. Our 
anniversary festival was before triumphant; it is now tri- 
umphant and sacred. It before called out the young and 
ardent, to join in the public rejoicings; it now also speaks, 
in a touching voice, to the retired, to the gray -headed, to 
the mild and peaceful spirits, to the whole family of sober 
freemen. It is henceforward, what the dying Adams pro- 
nounced it, a great and a good day. It is full of great- 
ness, and- full of goodness. It is absolute and complete. 
The death of the men who declared our independence, — 
their death on the day of the jubilee, — was all that was 
wanting to the fourth of July. To die on that day, and to 
die together, was all that was wanting to Jefferson and 
Adams. 

" Think not, fellow-citizens, that, in the mere formal dis- 
charge of my duty this day, I would overrate the melan- 
choly interest of the great occasion; I do any thing but 
intentionally overrate it. I labor only for words, to do 
justice to your feelings and to mine. I can say nothing 
which does not sound as cold and inadequate to myself as 
to you. The theme is too great and too surprising, the men 
are too great and good, to be spoken of in this cursory 
manner. There is too much in the contemplation of their 



EDWARD EVERETT. 503 

united characters, their services, the day and coincidence 
of their death, to be properly described, or to be fully felt 
at once. I dare not come here and dismiss, in a few sum- 
mary paragraphs, the characters of men who have filled 
such a space in the history of their age. It would be a 
disrespectful familiarity with men of their lofty spirits, 
their rich endowments, their long and honorable lives, to 
endeavor thus to weigh and estimate them. I leave that 
arduous task to the genius of kindred elevation, by whom 
to-morrow it will be discharged.* I feel the mournful 
contrast in the fortunes even of the first and best of 
men, that, after a life in the highest walks of usefulness; 
after conferring benefits, not merely on a neighborhood, a 
city, or even a state, but on a whole continent, and a pos- 
terity of kindred men; after having stood in the first esti- 
mation for talents, services, and influence, among millions 
of fellow-citizens, — a day must come, which closes all up; 
pronounces a brief blessing on their memory; gives an 
hour to the actions of a crowded life; describes in a sen- 
tence what it took years to bring to pass, and what is 
destined for years and ages to operate on posterity; passes 
forgetfully over many traits of character, many counsels 
and measures, which it cost, perhaps, years of discipline 
and effort to mature; utters a funeral prayer; chants a 
mournful anthem; and then dismisses all into the dark 
chambers of death and forgetfulness. 

"But no, fellow-citizens; we dismiss them not to the 
chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we admired, 
and prized, and venerated in them, can never be forgotten. 
I had almost said that they are now beginning to live; to 
live that life of unimpaired influence, of unclouded fame, 
of unmingled happiness, for which their talents and serv- 
ices were destined. They were of the select few, the least 

* A Eulogy \va3 delivered on Adams and Jefferson, on the Allowing day, ia 
Faneuil Hall, in Boston, by Daniel Webster. 



504 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

portion of whose life dwells in their physical existence; 
whose hearts have watched, while their senses have slept; 
whose sc uls have grown up into a higher being; whose 
pleasure :s to be useful; whose wealth is an unblemished 
reputation; who respire the breath of honorable fame; 
who have deliberately and consciously put what is called 
life to hazard, that they may live in the hearts of those 
who come after. Such men do not, can not die. To be 
cold and breathless; to feel not and speak not; this is not 
the end of existence to the men who have breathed their 
spirits into the institutions of their country, who have 
stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who 
have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the 
public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon 
sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, 
not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pour- 
ing out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent 
over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his 
cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who 
make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is 
Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow 
house? That which made these men, and men like these, 
can not die. The hand that traced the charter of inde- 
pendence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that 
sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that con- 
ceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to 
such men, ' make it life to live,' these can not expire ; — 

' These shall resist the empire of decay, 
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away; 
Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
But that which warmed it once can never die.' " 

On the 28th of May, 1833, Mr. Everett made a speech in 
Faneuil Hall, on the subject of the Bunker Hill Monument, 
at a meeting called by the Massachusetts Charitable Me- 
chanic Association, to take measures for its completion. 



EDWARD EVERETT. 505 

In closing this address he paid the following beautiful 
tribute to the memory of General Warren: 

" Two of the periods assigned to a generation of men 
have passed away, since the immortal Warren appeared 
before his fellow-citizens on the memorable anniversary 
of the fifth of March. He was, at that time, in the very 
dawn of manhood, and as you behold him in yonder deli- 
neation of his person. Amiable, accomplished, prudent, 
energetic, eloquent, brave — he united the graces of amaDly 
beauty to a lion heart, a sound mind, a safe judgment, and 
a firmness of purpose which nothing could shake. At the 
period to which I allude, he was but just thirty-two years 
of age; so young, and already the acknowledged head of 
the cause! He had never seen a battle-field; but the vete- 
rans of Louisburg and Quebec looked up to him as their 
leader; and the hoary-headed sages who had guided the 
public councils for a generation, came to him for advice. 
Such he stood, the organ of the public sentiment on the 
occasion just mentioned. At the close of his impassioned 
address, after having depicted the labors, hardships, and 
sacrifices, endured by our ancestors in the cause of liberty, 
he broke forth in the thrilling words, c The voice of your 
fathers' blood cries to you from the ground!' Three years 
only passed away; the solemn struggle came on; foremost 
in council, he also was foremost in the battle-field, and 
offered himself a voluntary victim, the first great martyr in 
the cause. Upon the heights of Charlestown, the last that 
was struck down, he fell with a numerous band of kindred 
spirits, the gray-haired veteran, the stripling in the flower 
of youth, who had stood side by side through that dreadful 
day, and fell together, like the beauty of Israel on their 
high places!" 

On the death of Lafayette, Mr. Everett was requested by 

the young men of Boston to pronounce his Eulogy. He did 

so on the 6th of September, 1834, in the presence of an im- 
64 



506 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

men.se audience assembled in Faneuil Hall. The walls of 
that venerable edifice, around which so many patriotic 
associations gather, resounded with an eloquence that sub- 
dued every heart. The sentences which follow should be 
carefully treasured in the mind of every American: 

" There is not, throughout the world, a friend of liberty, 
who has not dropped his head, when he has heard that 
Lafayette is no more. Poland, Italy, Greece, Spain, Ireland? 
the South American republics — every country where man is 
struggling to recover his birthright— have lost a benefactor, 
a patron, in Lafayette. But you, young men, at whose 
command I speak, for you a bright and particular lodestar 
is henceforward fixed in the front of heaven. What young 
man that reflects on the history of Lafayette — that sees him 
in the morning of his days the associate of sages — the friend 
of Washington — but will start with new vigor on the path 
of duty and renown? 

" And what was it, fellow-citizens, which gave to our 
Lafayette his spotless fame? The love of liberty. What 
has consecrated his memory in the hearts of good men? 
The love of liberty. What nerved his youthful arm with 
strength, and inspired him in the morning of his days with 
sagacity and counsel? The living love of liberty. To what 
did he sacrifice power, and rank, and country, and freedom 
itself? To the horror of licentiousness; to the sanctity of 
plighted faith; to the love of liberty protected by law. 
Thus the great principle of your revolutionary fathers, and 
of your pilgrim sires, the great principle of the age, was 
the rule of his life: the love of liberty protected by law." 

It is impossible to describe the effect produced upon the 
audience by that thrilling exclamation with which the 
orator concluded his masterly effort. Nothing of the kind 
can be more impressive or elevated than this peroration. 
It can not fall upon the ear of an American citizen without 
exciting patriotic feelings in his bosom — without recalling 



EDWARD EVERETT. 50? 

to his mind the glorious struggles of our fathers in the 
cause of liberty. No one who was so happy, on this occa- 
sion, as to be within sound of the speaker's voice, can ever 
forget the deep, swelling, melodious tones with which he 
closed this magnificent eulogy: 

" You have now assembled within these celebrated walls, 
to perform the last duties of respect and love, on the birth- 
day of your benefactor. The spirit of the departed is 
in high communion with the spirit of the place — the 
temple worthy of the new name which we now behold 
inscribed on its walls. Listen, Americans, to the les- 
son which seems borne to us on the very air we breathe, 
while we perform these dutiful rites ! Ye winds, that 
wafted the Pilgrims to the land of promise, fan, in their 
children's hearts, the love of freedom ! Blood, which 
our fathers shed, cry from the ground! Echoing arches 
of this renowned hall, whisper back the voices of other 
days ! Glorious Washington,* break the long silence of that 
votive canvas! Speak, speak, marble lips;f teach us the 

LOVE OF LIBERTY PROTECTED BY LAW! 

On the 19th (20th) of April, 1835, Mr. Everett delivered 
his great oration on the Battle of Lexington. This masterly 
production will be admired as long as the battle which it 
commemorates shall be remembered, and would, alone, be 
sufficient to transmit the fame of its author to the most 
distant posterity. It was pronounced w r ith electric effect 
upon the battle plains of Lexington. 

As the orator advances to the close of this oration he 
seems to soar higher in the grandeur of his conceptions, 
until he ends with a thrilling apostrophe to the bravest of 
the brave who had nobly spilt their blood for the freedom 
of their country on that day of death: 

* The portrait of Washington hung on the western wall, 
f The bust of Lafayette stood upon the platform. 



5 OS ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

" And you, brave and patriotic men, whose ashes are 
gathered in this humble place of deposit, no time shall rob 
you of the well^deserved meed of praise! You, too, per- 
ceived, not less clearly than the more illustrious patriots 
whose spirit you caught, that the decisive hour had come 
You felt with them that it could not, must not be shunned 
You had resolved it should not. Reasoning, remonstrance 
had been tried: from your own town meetings, from the 
pulpit, from beneath the arches of Faneuil Hall, every note 
of argument, of appeal, of adjuration, had sounded to the 
foot of the throne, and in vain. The wheels of destiny 
rolled on; the great design of Providence must be fulfilled; 
the issue must be nobly met, or basely shunned. Strange 
it seemed, inscrutable it was, that your remote and quiet 
village should be the chosen altar of the first great sacrifice. 
But the summons came and found you waiting; and here, 
in the center of your dwelling-places, within sight of the 
homes you were to enter no more, between the village 
ehurch where your fathers worshiped and the graveyard 
where they lay at rest, bravely and meekly, like Christian 
heroes, you sealed the cause with your blood. Parker, 
Munroe, Hadley, the Harringtons, Muzzy, Brown: — alas! 
ye can not hear my words. No voice but that of the arch- 
angel shall penetrate your urns; but, to the end of time, 
your remembrance shall be preserved! To the end of time, 
the soil whereon ye fell is holy, and shall be trodden with 
reverence, w 7 hile America has a name among the nations! 
And now ye are going to lie down beneath yon simple 
stone, which marks the place of your mortal agony. Fit 
spot for your last repose ! 

4 Where should the soldier rest, but where he fell?' 

For ages to come, the characters graven in the enduring 
marble shall tell the unadorned tale of your sacrifice; and 
ages after that stone itself has crumbled mto dust as inex- 



KDWARD EVEKETT. 509 

pressive as yours, history shall transmit tfce /ecord! Ay, 
while the language we speak retains its meaning in the 
ears of men, your names and your memory shall be 
cherished ! " 

On the 25th of August, 1835, Mr. Everett delivered an 
address before the literary societies of Amherst College, on 
;he subject: Education favorable to Liberty, Morals and 
Knowledge. In this oration, the closing scene in the life 
of the great Copernicus is thus vividly penciled by a fine 
stroke of the imagination: 

" It is plain that Copernicus, like his great contemporary, 
Columbus, though fully conscious of the boldness and the 
novelty of his doctrine, saw but a part of the change it was 
to effect in science. After harboring in his bosom for long, 
long years, that pernicious heresy, the solar system, he died 
on the day of the appearance of his book from the press. 
The closing scene of his life, with a little help from the 
imagination, would furnish a noble subject for an artist. 
For thirty -five years, he has revolved and matured in his 
mind his system of the heavens. A natural mildness of 
disposition, bordering on timidity, a reluctance to en- 
counter controversy, and a dread of persecution, have led 
him to withhold his work from the press, and to make 
known his system but to a lew confidential disciples and 
friends. At length he draws near his end; he is seventy- 
three years of age, and he yields his work on The Revo- 
lutions of the Heavenly Orbs to his friends for publication. 
The day at last has come, on which it is to be ushered into 
the world. It is the twenty-fourth of May, 1543. On that 
day, — the effect, no doubt, of the intense excitement of his 
mind, operating upon an exhausted frame, — an effusion of 
blood brings him to the gates of the grave. His last hour 
has come; he lies stretched upon the couch, from which he 
never will rise, in his apartment, at the Canonry at Frau- 
enberg, in East Prussia. The beams of the setting sun 



510 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

glance through the Gothic windows of his chamber; near 
his bedside is the ar miliary sphere, which he has contrived, 
to represent his theory of the heavens; his portrait, painted 
by himself, the amusement of his earlier years, hangs be 
fore him; beneath it, his astrolabe, and other imperfect 
astronomical instruments; and around him are gathered his 
sorrowing disciples. The door of the apartment opens; 
the eye of the departing sage is turned to see who enters: 
it is a friend, who brings him the first printed copy of his 
immortal treatise. He knows that in that book he contra- 
dicts all that had ever been distinctly taught by former 
philosophers; he knows that he has rebelled against the 
sway of Ptolemy, which the scientific world had acknow- 
ledged for a thousand years; he knows that the popular 
mind will be shocked by his innovations; he knows that 
tie attempt will be made to press even religion into the 
service against him; — but he knows that his book is true. 
He is dying, but he leaves a glorious truth, as his dying 
bequest, to the world. He bids the friend who has brought 
it place himself between the window and his bedside, that 
the sun's rays may fall upon the precious volume, and he 
may behold it once more before his eye grows dim. He 
looks upon it, takes it in his hands, presses it to his breast, 
and expires. But no, he is not wholly gone! A smile 
lights up hio dying countenance; a beam of returning intel- 
ligence kindles in his eye; his lips move; and the friend 
who leans over him can hear him faintly murmur the 
beautiful sentiments, which the Christian lyrist of a later 
age has so finely expressed in verse: 

' Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, with all your feeble light! 
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, pale empress of the night! 
And thou, refulgent orb of day, in brighter flames arrayed, 
My soul which springs beyond thy sphere, no more demands thy aid! 
Ye stars a:-» but the shining dust of my divine abode, 
The pavement of those heavenly courts, where I shall reign with God.' n 



EDWARD EVERETT. 511 

" So died the great Columbus of the heavens. His doc- 
trine, at first, for want of a general diffusion of knowledge, 
forced its way with difficulty against the deep-rooted pre- 
judices of the age. Tycho Brake attempted to restore tke 
absurdities of tke Ptolemaic system; but Kepler, witk a 
sagacity which more than atones for all his strange fancies, 
laid hold of the theory of Copernicus, with a grasp of iron, 
and dragged it into repute. Galileo turned his telescope 
to the heavens, and observed the phases of Venus, which 
Copernicus boldly predicted must be discovered, as his 
theory required their appearance; and lastly Newton arose, 
like a glorious sun, scattering the mists of doubt and op- 
position, and ascended the heavens full-orbed and cloud- 
less, establishing at once his own renown and that of his 
predecessors, and crowned with the applauses of the world; 
but declaring, with that angelic modesty which marked his 
character, ' I do not know what I may appear to the world; 
but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy, playing 
on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in finding now and 
then a pebble, or a prettier shell than ordinary, while the 
great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.' " 

Here we have an eloquent passage from the same ad- 
dress, on knowledge: 

" What is human knowledge? It is the cultivation and 
improvement of the spiritual principle in man. We are 
composed of two elements; the one, a little dust caught up 
from the earth, to which we shall soon return; the other, 
a spark of that divine intelligence, in which and through 
which we bear the image of the great Creator. By know- 
lege, the wings of the intellect are spread; by ignorance, 
they are closed and palsied, and the physical passions are 
left to gain the ascendency. Knowledge opens all the 
senses to the wonders of creation; ignorance seals them 
up, and leaves the animal propensities unbalanced by 
reilcction, enthusiasm, and taste. To the ignorant man, 



512 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

the glorious pomp of day, the sparkling mysteries of night, 
the majestic ocean, the rushing storm, the plenty-bearing 
river, the salubrious breeze, the fertile field, the docile 
animal tribes, the broad, the various, the unexhausted 
domain of nature, are a mere outward pageant, poorly 
understood in their character and harmony, and prized 
only so far as they minister to the supply of sensual wants. 
How different the scene to the man whose mind is stored 
w r ith knowledge! For him the mystery is unfolded, the 
veils lifted up, as one after another he turns the leaves of 
that great volume of creation, which is filled in every page 
with the characters of wisdom, power, and love; with les- 
sons of truth the most exalted,* with images of unspeaka- 
ble loveliness and wonder; arguments of Providence; food 
for meditation; themes of praise. One noble science 
sends him to the barren hills, and teaches him to survey 
their broken precipices. Where ignorance beholds no- 
thing but a rough, inorganic mass, instruction discerns 
the intelligible record of the primal convulsions of the 
world; the secrets of ages before man was; the landmarks 
of the elemental struggles and throes of what is now the 
terraqueous globe. Buried monsters, of which the races 
are now extinct, are dragged out of deep strata, dug out 
of eternal rocks, and brought almost to life, to bear wit- 
ness to the power that created them. Before the admiring 
student of nature has realized all the wonders of the elder 
w r orld, thus, as it were, recreated by science, another de- 
lightful instructress, with her microscope in her hand, 
bids him sit down and learn at last to know the universe 
in which he lives, and contemplate the limbs, the motions, 
the circulations of races of animals, disporting in their 
tempestuous ocean, — a drop of water. Then, while his 
whole soul is penetrated with admiration of the power 
which has filled with life, and motion, and sense these all 
but non-existent atoms, — 0, then, let the divinest of the 



EDWARD EVERETT. £\ 3 

muses, let Astronomy approach, and take him by the hand; 
let her 

' Come, but keep her wonted state, 
With even step and musing gait, 
And looks commercing with the skies, 
Her rapt soul sitting in her eyes.' 

Let her lead him to the mount of vision; let her turn her 
heaven-piercing tube to the sparkling vault: through that 
let him observe the serene star of evening, and see it 
transformed into a cloud-encompassed orb, a world of 
rugged mountains and stormy deeps; or behold the pale 
beams of Saturn, lost to the untaught observer amidst 
myriads of brighter stars, and see them expand into the 
broad disk of a noble planet, — the seven attendant worlds, 
— the wondrous rings, — a mighty system in itself, borne 
at the rate of twenty-two thousand miles an hour on its 
broad pathway through the heavens; and then let him 
reflect that our great solar system, of which Saturn and 
his stupendous retinue is but a small part, fills itself, in 
the general structure of the universe, but the space of one 
fixed star; and that the power which filled the drop of 
water with millions of living beings, is present and active, 
throughout this illimitable creation! — Yes, yes, 

c An undevout astronomer is mad!'" 

In the autumn of 1835, Mr. Everett was chosen Gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts, as the successor of Hon. John 
Davis, and occupied the office till 1840, having been three 
times re-elected. 

In the summer of 1840, he visited Europe a second 
time.* While there he was appointed Minister to Eng- 

* It is related that, previous to the departure of Mr. Everett from Boston, 
when present at a public dinner, Hon. Judge Story gave as a sentiment, 
•' Learning, genius and eloquence, are sure to be welcome where Ever-ett 
goes." On which Mr. Everett promptly gave, t; Law, Equity and Jurispru- 
dent: All their efforts to rise will never be able to get above one Story." 

65 



£14 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

land on the accession of Gen. Harrison to the Presidency 
in 1841. He discharged the duties of this office in such a 
manner as to reflect the highest honors on his abilities as 
a statesman and a diplomatist. He gained the entire con- 
fidence of his government, and was universally respected 
in England. 

On his return to the United States in 1845, Mr. Everett 
was chosen President of Harvard University, which station 
he was compelled, at the close of three years, to resign in 
consequence of ill heath. After resigning the Presidency 
of this university, he prepared an edition of his orations 
and speeches, which appeared in two octavo volumes, in 
1S50 Besides the orations which we have mentioned in 
this sketch, they contain many others of the most inter- 
esting character, on similar topics, such as, The Principles 
of the American Constitutions ; The History of Liberty; 
The Settlement of Massachusetts; Importance of Scientific 
Knowledge to Practical Men, and the Encouragement to its 
Pursuit; Colonization and Civilization of Africa; The 
Education of Mankind; Agriculture; The Youth of Wash- 
ington; The Battle of Bloody Brook; The First Battles of 
the Revolutionary War; The Boyhood and Youth of 
Franklin; Anecdotes of Early Local History; Superior and 
Popular Education; Eulogy on John Quincy Adams. The 
collection closes with a beautiful speech on the Bible, de- 
livered at the Annual Meeting of the Massachusetts Bible 
Society in Boston, on the 27th of May, 1850. 

About this time Mr. Everett wrote an interesting me- 
moir of Daniel Webster, which is contained in the first 
volume of the great statesman's works. 

On the death of Mr. Webster in 1852, Mr. Everett be- 
came his successor as Secretary of State. 

At the Anniversary of the American Colonization So- 
ciety, held in the city of Washington, January 18, 1853, he 
delivered a verjr interesting and able address which was 



EDWARD EVERETT. 515 

warmly received. His remarks on Stability &-&1 Progress 
— his Lecture on the Discovery and Colonization of 
America j and his Remarks at the Plymouth Festival, in 
1853, are widely known and justly admired. 

On the 4th of March, 1853, Mr. Everett took his seat in 
the Senate of the United States as the successor of Hon. 
John Davis. This station he resigned in May, 1854, on 
account of declining health. 

The eloquence of Mr. Everett is of the Ciceronean 
order — copious, graceful, harmonious, correct and flowing. 
He also resembles the great Roman orator in the variety 
and extent of his knowledge. It may truly be said of 
him as was remarked of Burke, take him on any subject 
you please, and he is ready to meet you. His memory is 
very tenacious. His style is elaborated with the greatest 
care and perfection. His sensibilities are very refined. 
His imagination is sparkling. His gestures in public 
speaking are graceful; the tones of his voice are sweet 
and melodious; and his whole manner, elegant and per- 
suasive. No one can listen to him without being moved, 
instructed, and delighted. 

It has been well remarked of our distinguished orator, 
that, "As long as clear and logical reasoning wins the assent 
of the understanding, as long as true eloquence stirs the 
blood, as long as ease and grace of style approve them- 
selves to the taste, so long will the compositions of Edward 
Everett be read and admired. He is, essentially, a rheto- 
rician, and, unless France may furnish one or two excep- 
tions, the most accomplished living. Whatever is requi- 
site for rhetorical success, Mr. Everett possesses. To the 
most varied culture, he adds an immense and various 
learning, a memory equally retentive and prompt, great 
facility and felicity of expression, a ready power of asso- 
ciation, and a wit and humor which seem always to be 
ready when the occasion calls for them. No knight rode 



516 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

in the tournament arrayed in more glittering armor, 
or more dexterous in the use of his weapons. He has 
enough of imagination ; he has the quick and kindling 
sensibilities without which there is no eloquence; and, 
above all, he shows a wonderfully quick perception of 
the state of mind in those whom he addresses. He 
seems to have more than a double share of nerves in 
his fingers' ends. If there be truth in animal magnetism, 
he ought to be one of the most impressible. He pos- 
sesses that greatest of charms, an exquisite voice, — round, 
swelling, full of melody, particularly emotional; natu- 
rally grave, and with a touch almost of melancholy in 
some of its cadences, but, like all such emotional voices, 
admirably suited to the expression of humor, and of rising 
from a touching pathos into the most stirring, thrilling 
and triumphant tones. There is such harmony between 
thought and style, manner and voice, that each gives force 
to the other, and all unite in one effect on the hearer." 

" The great charm of Mr. Everett's orations consists, 
not so much in any single and strongly -developed intel- 
lectual trait, as in that symmetry and finish which, on 
every page, give token of the richly-endowed and thorough 
scholar. The natural movements of his mind are full of 
grace; and the most indifferent sentiment which falls from 
his pen has that simple elegance which it is as difficult to 
define as it is easy to perceive. His level passages are 
never tame, and his fine ones are never superfine. His 
style, with matchless flexibility, rises and falls with his subject, 
and is alternately easy, vivid, elevated, ornamental, or pictur- 
esque, adapting itself to the dominant mood of the mind, as 
an instrument responds to the touch of a master's hand. 
His knowledge is so extensive, and the field of his allu- 
sions so wide, that the most familiar views in passing 
through his hands, gather such a halo of luminous illus- 
trations, that their likeness seems transformed, and we 



EDWARD EVERETT. 517 

entertain doubts of their identity. Especially, in reading 
these orations, do we perceive the power which comes 
from an accurate knowledge of history. No one wields 
an historical argument with more skill; no one is more 
fruitful in effective historical parallels and applications. 
He has, in perfection, the historical eye, if we may so speak; 
the power of running over an epoch and seizing upon its 
characteristic expression, and of distinguising the events 
by which that expression is most decidedly manifested. 
His Phi Beta Kappa oration (the one delivered at Cam- 
bridge in 1824), is a signal instance of his success in this 
respect. Whatever may be thought of the soundness of 
its positions, no one can doubt the ability with which they 
are maintained, and the ingenuity and admirable rhetori- 
cal skill, with which the orator presses into his service the 
long record of the past, to enforce and defend them. The 
same remarks apply, also, to his Plymouth oration, and in- 
deed, in a greater or less degree, to nearly all his discourses. 
Not only has he the comprehensive grasp and power of 
generalization, which are the attributes of almost all su- 
perior minds, but he has all the minute accuracy of a 
chronicler, understands perfectly the significance and effi- 
cacy of facts and details, and uses them with great skill 
and success. His picturesque narrative is one of the most 
striking of his accomplishments. With what vividness 
does he make a long procession of events pass before our 
eyes, as in his Lexington, Concord, and Bloody Brook 
addresses, marshaling every thing into its proper place, 
without confusion or crowding !» How agreeably he relates 
a familiar incident, like the anecdote of the dispersion of 
the London mob, in his Cambridge Fourth of July oration. 
With what living hues he paints a scene like that of the 
death-bed of Copernicus, in the Address before the Liter- 
ary Societies of Amherst College." 

" His style appears to us a nearly perfect specimen of a 



518 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

rhetorical and ornamental style. Certainly it is so, if 
the just definition of a good style be, proper words in 
proper places. He is as careful to select the right word, 
as a workman in mosaic is to pick out the exact shade of 
color which he requires. His orations abound w th 
those delicious cadences, which thrill through the veins 
like a strain of fine music, and cling spontaneously to the 
memory. 

" The extracts we have made from Mr. Everett's vol- 
umes are specimens of that magnificent declamation which 
is one of his most obvious and striking characteristics; 
but some of his discourses are of a practical cast, and 
display a corresponding style. His singular power of 
illustration enables him to give dignity to the lowest, 
and interest to the dryest subject, while that unerring 
taste which, in his highest flights, insures him temper- 
ance and smoothness, preserves him from the unpardon- 
able sin of being heavy, commonplace, and prosaic. His 
brilliant intellectual accomplishments and his fine taste rest 
upon a granite foundation of vigorous good sense" 

On February 22d 1856, he delivered, before the Boston 
Mercantile Library Association an oration on the Genius and 
Character of Washington, generally considered his greatest 
effort. The proceeds of this lecture were devoted to the pur- 
chase, by the Library, of Stuart's famous portrait of Washing- 
ton, which now adorns the walls of that institution. Such 
was the interest excited by this oration, that invitations to 
repeat it poured in upon him from all parts of the coun- 
try. By natural temperament and social circumstances a con- 
servative, and deploring the bitterness of feeling which the 
slavery question was raising between the Northern and South- 
ern States, he imagined that a contemplation of the character 
and spirit of the immortal founder of the Republic would serve 
to allay the excitement, and accordingly, he generously offered 
to deliver it for the benefit of the Ladies' Mount Vernon Asso- 
ciation, an organization formed to purchase Mount Vernon, in 



EDWARD EVERETT. 519 

order that it might for ever belong to the American people as a 
place of public resort and pilgrimage. Mr. Everett's labors 
in this cause were immense. Besides writing for the Nevf 
York Ledger fifty-three short essays, for which he received the 
munificent sum of ten thousand dollars, he delivered his ora- 
tion on Washington one hundred and nineteen times, of which 
four were in Philadelphia and four in New York, and always 
before crowded audiences, producing for the fund $57,000. 
His charitable efforts were not confined to this object alone, 
noble as that was ; his address on " Charity and Chari- 
table Institutions" was repeated fifteen times, for different 
benevolent purposes, and produced $13,000. Another oration 
on the " Early Days of Franklin " was also very successful. In 
1860 he wrote for the Encyclopaedia Britannica, a memoir of 
Washington, which was afterwards republished in book form in 
New York. In 1860 he was nominated for the Vice-Presidency 
by the American or Compromise party, with the Hon. John 
Bell of Tennessee, as the candidate for the Presidency. But the 
time for compromises was past, and both North and South 
eagerly nerved themselves for the approaching conflict. The 
American party received only one-eighth of the electoral vote, 
although their popular strength was somewhat greater, and 
Lincoln's election was made the pretext for the secession of 
the Southern States. Perceiving that war was inevitable, and 
satisfied that he had done all that was in his power to avert 
it, he accepted the issue, and henceforth devoted all his energies 
to the support of the Federal Government. In 1863, by invi- 
tation of the governors of nineteen of the Northern States, he 
delivered the oration at the dedication of the Gettysburg Cem- 
etery, on the battle-ground where the issue of the war was 
really decided, and although a finished description of the battle, 
it does not rank among his successful productions. His last 
public appearance was at a meeting held in Boston shortly be- 
fore his death, for the relief of the people of Savannah, who 
were suffering from privations caused by the war. He caught 



/ 

520 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 

a severe cold at the meeting, which settling on his lungs, 
terminated finally in apoplexy, and on January 18th 1865, he 
breathed his last. 

In conclusion, we may say, that of all the writings of our 
greatest senatorial orators, none will perhaps be oftener perused 
or longer admired than the Orations and Speeches op 
Edward Everett. 




vfi' 



THE END. 



